


lionhearted (we'll make this right)

by bottlefullofarsenic



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (family of thirteen), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Monster Hunters, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Suicidal Thoughts, Valentine's Day, bc they deserve all the kisses, everyone is in this basically - Freeform, it's mostly gen except mileven, steve gets seven new children, the loser's ages are messed with for the sake of continuity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottlefullofarsenic/pseuds/bottlefullofarsenic
Summary: Normalcy should be easy to obtain. After all, they closed the gate, they defeated the monster, right? Life should go back to normal.If only it was that simple.





	1. madmax the champion

**Author's Note:**

> three cheers for a new work, especially in a new fandom! i'll try to keep up with chapters as well as i can. ( i know i don't have the best track record, sorry.) i've recently started to be really into both of stranger things + It 2017, so i decided to jump on the bandwagon for a crossover! 
> 
> heavily inspired by the songs 'lionhearted' by porter robinson and 'the phoenix' by fall out boy.

**_January 28, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. Hawkins Arcade._ **

 

Usually on Monday nights at the arcade, the general atmosphere was more subdued than other days. The beeping from each machine seemed to be half hearted, and all scores seemed to be lower than any other day of the week. Mostly it was from the typical Monday drag in every kid and teen there, exhausted from the weekend and unwelcome return of school. However, the unspoken expectation was missing, excited yelling filling the air in which there was supposed to be soft conversation. 

 

Tonight, the legendary Mad Max was set on beating her own high score. 

 

“Yes! Yes! Mad Max go!” Dustin was shouting, with Lucas’s incomprehensible yelling mixing in. Will was clutching onto Max’s shoulder with an iron grip, too scared of her messing up to shake her and too anxious to let go. Mike was looking over Dustin’s head, mute in his excitement, except for the few gasps and groans in between carefully timed moves. 

 

All other distractions were eliminated as the five stared intensely at the brightly colored pixels, uncaring of the noise they were making. The hustle and bustle of the arcade seemed to be muted, as if the happenings of others and their games were in a parallel universe. Even the kid beside them at the Pacman machine and his grumbling was ignored, irrelevant to everyone crowding around the Dig Dug console. 

 

“Damn it!” Max cursed, and suddenly all noise ceased from the other four.Mike held his breath, watching as Max made one shaky move, and then another. Max struggled for a few seconds more, then with a sad beeping noise, the game ended. 

 

“FUCK!”

 

Dustin slammed his hand down on the side of the machine, the source of the loud curse as Lucas openly groaned and Will quietly shook his head, releasing his grip on Max’s shoulder. Mike took a few steps backward in disappointment, releasing the breath he had been holding, watching as Max carefully typed in her iconic MADMAX next to the shiny new score: 845620. Her highest yet. 

 

“You did really good! That’s over a hundred thousand more than your last score,” Will said candidly as Max proudly looked over the machine as if it were her own kingdom. She turned and smiled at him. 

 

“Thanks, Will,” she replied warmly.

 

The surrounding buzz from the rest of the arcade returned to them. The beeps and mechanical themes from each game came back into focus, and as Dustin excited chattered with Max over possible strategies for gaining an even highest score, Mike turned slightly at the sound of a familiar voice shouting from the entrance. 

 

He saw the hair first, piled up in the iconic Harrington style as the exasperated teen marched over to the group, twirling his keys on one finger, the other hand coming up to rest on his hip as he planted himself in front of the Party, staring at each of them in turn. 

 

“I’ve been waiting for five minutes. I said  _ 6:30 _ , you shits, not 6:45,” he griped, sounding like a mother scolding her children for not cleaning their rooms. Max rolled her eyes. 

 

“Oh, you almost  _ died _ ,” Max drawled, and Steve turned to glare at her, the redhead fiercely returning the glare with fire of her own. Dustin rolled his eyes at the battle that seemed to be happening between the two, but before he could do anything, Steve raised one eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. 

 

“Don’t make me strand you here, ‘cause I’ll do it. And do you numbnuts even  _ know _ what this will do to my reputation? Steve Harrington, at the palace of the nerds? It’s not good,” Steve snapped, finally blinking and turning away from Max, instead focusing on Dustin. 

 

“I thought you lost all reputation you had when Billy came into town,” Dustin shot back. A month ago, the statement would’ve stung, Steve getting quiet for the rest of the night, but now he just snorted and ruffled Dustin’s hair affectionately, turning to walk back towards the entrance. 

 

“Careful, Henderson, you just got those nice new teeth of yours, and I don’t want to be responsible for knocking them out,” Steve replied, pushing the arcade door open with his back as he stared pointedly at Dustin. 

 

“Shotgun!” Mike yelled as soon as the car was in sight - Lucas and Dustin started to run, and Mike stumbled before following. “I  _ called _ it, you guys!” 

 

Steve, Max and Will stayed back, amusedly watching the three duke it out for the passenger seat. After a few seconds of scuffle, Mike reclaimed his throne by sticking one leg in the vehicle and using his hips to block both of his other friends.

 

“He wins every time, why don't you guys just give it up?” Will asked teasingly, as all four of them squished together, Lucas and Dustin grumbling in their defeat and Will and Max laughing at them. 

 

“Never,” Dustin hissed, and Lucas nodded fiercely in agreement. The other three cracked up.

 

“I don't know, it would be nice having someone other than this geek next to me all the time,” Steve chimed in, elbowing Mike in the ribs and then grinning at him. Mike gave him a fake hurt look. 

 

“That’s right, Mike! I’M his favorite!” Dustin yelled, reaching his hand up to high five Steve. 

 

“Don't make us crash the car,” Max said breezily. Steve rolled his eyes glaring at her through the rearview mirror. 

 

“Right, like  _ you _ know anything about driving,” he replied snappily, remembering the terrifying sensation of seeing her behind the wheel that night. 

 

The rest of the car ride past easily, Steve letting Mike control the radio as usual, and the four crammed in the back animatedly speaking to each other about everything from the next AV Club meeting to when they’d be able to see El next.. 

 

“Mike! Do you have the next campaign set up yet?” Will asked, just as Steve pulled up to the Wheeler residence. Mike seemed to deflate a bit. 

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It'll be ready by Wednesday, maybe,” Mike said distractedly, fiddling with the seatbelt and pulling on his jacket. He seemed to be doing anything but getting out of the car. 

 

“Come on, Wheeler, get out. I'll pick you up tomorrow. Same time as always,” Steve said softly, changing from his regular annoyed tone he used around the kids.

 

“Oh! Yeah. Bye guys, see you tomorrow!” Mike regained a bit of his previous energy, grinning happily at each one of his friends as they let out a chorus of goodbyes. He slammed the door on his way out, looking back one more time. Lucas and Dustin were making faces against the window, Will had slipped into the front seat and was waving frantically, Max flipped him off with a grin on her face. 

 

Turning back to his home, Mike quickly made a loop behind his house, quietly opening the basement door. He didn't look at the empty fort, or the way the lights didn't seem to light up the desolate space all the way. 

 

Slowly opening the door to the upper level, Mike looked around. The TV in the living room was on, but the lights were off and a faint snoring sound could be heard. There was no sign of his mother. 

 

“Nancy?” he called out, and after a few solid moments of silence, his older sister poked her head out. 

 

“Up here, Mom’s in the bath. Holly’s asleep,” she said in a hushed voice, and Mike nodded before traipsing upstairs. 

 

Nancy’s worried face greeted him, eyebrows pushed together slightly and mouth in a pout. 

 

“He's asleep earlier than usual,” Mike noted, his voice in a whisper again. The silence of the house seemed to push down on both of them, almost physically forcing Mike to walk bent slightly and quietly. He walked past Nancy to his room, and she followed him after a moment. 

 

“How was the arcade?” she whispered, and Mike smiled slightly. 

 

“Fun, Max beat her own high score on Dig Dug,” he informed her quietly, sliding into his dark room and turning on a lamp. It didn't seem right to flick on all the lights, disturbing the quiet that had settled in the house. Nancy sat on his bed and he dumped his jacket on the floor, abandoning his shoes as well. His burst of energy had disappeared, leaving him to drag a hand across his face and tiredly sit next to Nancy.

 

“That sounds nice. Do you have any homework for tomorrow?” Nancy continued, and Mike just nodded.

 

“Just some math.” He paused for a moment. “You can go, Nance, I’m okay. Steve is picking me up tomorrow.” 

 

“I… I know. I just worry about you. You… Talk to you later.” She said after another moment. Before he could get up to get his backpack, however, she reached around him in a rush and pulled him into a hug. He froze for a moment before reciprocating. 

 

“Goodnight, Nancy,” he whispered. 

 

“Goodnight, Mike.” 


	2. reigning geography nerd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, a chapter a day? amazing! probably won't happen again. i'm just putting out all my pre-written chapters so you guys have something to read before i set a posting schedule.

**_January 28, 1985. Derry, Maine. The Denbrough Residence._ **

 

“Ah ha! Got you fuckers!” 

 

Richie slammed down his hand, resulting in a groan from the others. A six of hearts, nine of spades, two of diamonds, and a jack of clubs. In other words, absolutely nothing.

 

“I hate playing with him,” Stan grumbled, watching gloomily as Richie triumphantly dragged in the collection of coins, scraps of paper and bits of candy from the pile in the middle. 

 

“He's buh-better at bluh-bluh-bluffing than yuh-yuh-yuh-you are, Ben, s-s-sorry for saying,” Bill told Ben, who nodded solemnly. 

 

“Sure, but I have a better poker face.” Ben paused before saying. Eddie and Mike laughed; Richie slapped his hand on the table, mouth open in preparation to rip Ben a new one… 

 

“... sure, yeah, okay,” he grumbled, and Ben and Bill high fived.  

 

“Let's play something else where I don't lose all of my money, yeah?” Eddie suggested as Ben gathered up the cards, giving them to Stan to shuffle them. 

 

“Go Fish?” Ben suggested. Richie scoffed. 

 

“What are we, five?” he sneered. 

 

“Yes,” Stan said in a monotone, the flutter of the cards filling in the resulting silence. 

 

“How about War?” Mike suggested after a second, and everyone shrugged. 

 

“A deal, good sir!” Richie crowed, using his British Gentleman voice.

 

Stan gave the freshly-shuffled stack to Mike, who began to deal the cards. Every time Richie got one, he pounded his hand on the table, louder and louder. 

 

“Richie, I’m going to cut your fucking hand off I swear to god,” Eddie snapped after the fifth time of this happening, Richie slapping his hand down so hard that the table rattled and each stack of cards scattered. 

 

Richie withdrew his hand finally, a shit-eating grin taking over his face. 

 

“Oh please don't, that's the hand I use when I -” 

 

“Beep beep, Richie!” Stan said loudly, tapping his cards on the table with a bang to emphasize the point. 

 

Richie cackled. 

 

The phone from downstairs started to ring just as Richie started up, resulting in the sound to be masked by the obnoxious laughter coming from the boy. 

 

“Are you finished?” Eddie asked him scathingly as they began playing, Richie wiping away joyful tears as he slammed his own card down. Stan jumped, another scowl taking over his face. 

 

“I think I shall keep on this nonsense for at least the next fortnight, my dear,” Richie proclaimed, again adapting his British Gentleman voice. Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. 

 

“Bill!” The voice of Bill’s mother suddenly cut through the game, making everyone pause and Bill’s head to shoot up. 

 

“Yeah?” he yelled back, dealing another card. Everyone quickly followed suit, Mike and Ben groaning as they pulled out the same card. 

 

“It’s your friend, Beverly Marsh? Calling from Indiana.” 

 

Mike and Ben froze in their war, a split second passing as they all stared, wide-eyed at each other. 

 

In the next second, the cards and chairs went flying as they all sprinted for the stairs, Bill and Ben at the head of the pack. Eddie paused at the entrance of the stairs, making Richie and Stan collide with his back and almost send him flying a couple steps. 

 

“WAIT! I am  _ not _ breaking my  _ fucking _ neck because you assholes are pushing me,” he yelled, taking a reasonable speed down the steps as the other three pushed impatiently at his back. 

 

“Eddie Spaghetti, my boy Eds, I am going to  _ kill you _ if you don’t walk faster,” Richie hissed in response.

 

Down the hall, Bill and Ben had already reached the kitchen, Bill giving his mother a stellar smile while Ben took hold of the phone, both ignoring the distant crash.

 

“Hello?” he said into the receiver, the other three boys rushing into the kitchen, a haggard Eddie sliding in last. 

 

“They fucking  _ shoved me down the stairs! _ ” he shrieked. Everyone shushed him. 

 

“Sorry, Eddie,” Mike responded with an apologetic shrug and comforting hand on the shoulder, while Ben laughed and responded to Bev, “Yeah, that is Eddie. Sure, you can talk to him!”

 

They all crowded around the short boy, barely daring to make a sound as Beverly’s voice faintly floated from the speaker. 

 

“Hope they don’t torture you much, Eddie, I know they can be terrors,” she laughed, and Eddie made an exasperated noise. 

 

“Tell me about it,” he grumped. Richie gave him a sound thump on the back, proceeding to lift the smaller boy up in a hug. 

 

“You know you love me, Eddie dearest,” he teased, letting Eddie down when he violently shoved at Richie. 

 

“You just pushed me down the stairs, you shithead, I could’ve  _ died _ ,” Eddie said seriously. Richie let out a guffaw. 

 

“All the more fun!”

 

“Hey, boys, boys, you’re both beautiful and handsome and all that. Bev is talking,” Stan interrupted, making the two listen to the tail end of Beverly’s response. 

 

“ -- house is  _ enormous _ , I swear, I think a family of like, 20 lived in it before my aunt did,” Beverly was saying, Ben and Bill listening attentively. “Otherwise, I don’t know why a fifty year old, unmarried woman would buy this big of a cabin. Mansion. It really is gigantic.”

 

“You luh-live in t-th-the woods now, ruh-ri-right?” Bill asked, shifting closer to the phone as if it would bring him physically closer to Beverly. 

 

“Yeah, about twenty minutes from the nearest town. It’s so stupid, I can’t even bike there. The only upside to being this secluded is this quarry that’s  _ maybe _ two minutes from here,” Beverly informed, every one of the boys completely sucked into the conversation.

 

“Is it like the one here?” Richie eagerly asked. A faint laugh came from the speaker. 

 

“No, no, not at all. If I tried to jump from this one, I’m pretty sure I would go  _ splat _ ,” she laughed. “It’s just nice to go and sit on the edge. Sometimes kids from the town’ll come and try to act big, like you guys. Except more nerdy. If that’s even possible.” 

 

“Hey!” Eddie protested lightly. 

 

“Tell us more about the town,” Mike interrupted. Richie laughed and fondly nudged him. 

 

“Yeah, our reigning geography nerd wants to know,” he teased. Mike blushed slightly. 

 

“I’ve only been there once or twice to go with my aunt on shopping trips,” Beverly responded, shutting Richie up quickly. “It’s too far away for me to go to school there, so she just homeschools me. Now we have more in common, Mike.” 

 

“Isn’t it nice?” Mike smiled, and Beverly laughed again. 

 

“For sure. I don’t know if I could handle any of those kids at the quarry at all times. But the quarry isn’t even the strangest part of this town. There’s this… I don’t know, government facility in the middle of the woods.”

 

“Government facility?” Stan interrupted, getting an intrigued look on his face. 

 

“I bet they have aliens in there,” Richie mused, his eyes shining. Eddie shoved him. 

 

“It’s totally weird! They shut it down in November for whatever reason, but apparently they covered up the death of these couple of kids,” Beverly continued, “And like, this kid named Will Byers, he’s one of the ones that always visits the quarry, he came back from the dead two years ago -”

 

“That was in the news!” Ben said excitedly. 

 

“ --Yeah, yeah! It’s so weird. He’s one of the nicer ones, though. Pretty quiet, doesn’t try to impress me like his other friends,” Beverly finished.

 

“What was the name of this town, again?” Mike asked. He had a strange look on his face. 

 

“Hawkins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the worst ending i've written.... its so sudden and cringey and just plain eh! sorry about that, i didn't know how else to end it. 
> 
> idk why but the loser's club just seems more... natural for me to write? it's strange but it's probably because i have an easier time writing comedic characters. 
> 
> again, any feedback is appreciated! (hmu at bottlefullofarsenic on tumblr if you want, too!)


	3. i <3 hawkins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo two chapters in one day!!! this is the last of the pre-written chapters - now it's just me writing along the way. also, this jumps between the two towns until (until) they meet, so sorry if that's confusing. enjoy!

**_January 29, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. Hawkins High School._ **

 

Geography was probably Mike’s least favorite class. 

 

Not that the subject was boring - if he really put effort into it, the maps and places they studied and the cultures they learned about were perfectly interesting. However, the people in the class made it all the more horrible. 

 

The only person he recognized was Max, who was just as unenthused as he was to be in the class. All the others, chatting to each other happily and giving both Mike and the teacher a headache, didn’t give a shit. 

 

“Easy grade!” they chirped, fluttering around each other like happy, fat, socially-gorged pigeons while they ignored all the others trying to actually get their work done. Mike was fairly sure that none of them had above a C. 

 

Another reason he hated Geography was sitting on his desk, neatly printed in big, fat letters on the pristine sheet of paper. 

 

**GROUP PROJECT: SMALL TOWNS IN AMERICA**

 

_ You and one other person will select one of the following towns from across America, collect one recent news story and one story from the past, and basic facts about the area.  _

_ DUE: Thursday, January 31. _

 

_ List of Towns: _

_ Redstone, Colorado (population of 130) _

_ Lanesboro, Minnesota (population of 754) _

_ Winnemucca, Nevada (population of 7,369) _

_ Derry, Maine (population of 1,573) _

_ Manzanita, Oregon (population of 598) _

_ Meeteetse, Wyoming (population of 327) _

_ Killington, Vermont (population of 811) _

_ Zwolle, Louisiana (population of 1,759) _

_ Carmel-By-The-Sea, California ( population of 3,891) _

 

Group projects were always the worst. He was always roped into being the one doing all the work, thanks to his branding as the “nerd” of the class. He didn’t even know that much about geography - he liked English much, much more.

 

“Wanna work together? We’re probably the only ones who have read the sheet by now,” a voice startled Mike from his glum staring contest with the paper, determined to burn a hole through it. Max was standing in front of his desk, paper in one hand and pencil in another.

 

After a moment, Mike shrugged and scooter over in his seat, letting Max squeeze in beside him. Her paper was marked up with stars and check marks; his was slightly wrinkled with only his name written messily in the top right corner.

 

“Which one do you wanna pick?” Max asked again, and Mike responded with another shrug. 

 

“You choose,” he said simply, not looking over to see Max’s resulting scowl. He frowned after a moment, looking over the list again. “Not Redstone, though. Or Meeteetse. They have too little people to really be interesting.” 

Beside him, Max was getting annoyed as she crossed out her two starred ones. The only one left was Derry.

 

“We’re doing Derry, then,” she said shortly. No arguments. Mike shrugged again and underlined the town.

 

“Okay.”

 

“So where do you think we could get the information?” Max pushed, trying to get Mike to  do  _ some _ work. He rubbed his forehead, mumbling under his breath for a moment before straightening up. He really was not in the mood.

 

“The library, probably, and we can look through the old newspapers that are lying around my house,” he said. His father had kept every newspaper he got from both Hawkins Times from the last eighteen years, ‘just in case’. Mike wasn’t fully sure what that case was.

 

“I’m pretty sure that I heard about this place in the news like, last year, something about a missing kid,” Max continued, and Mike finally turned his head to look at her.

 

“Missing kid?” he repeated, and Max nodded.

 

“More than one, if I’m not mistaken. The one the story was about was this really small kid, George or something like that. I think they found his body in the sewer or something like that.”

 

Mike felt sick. If they had found Will like that… 

 

The bell ringing shook him out of his spiralling thoughts, forcing him to give up the image of Will in that hospital bed two years ago.

 

“I’ll tell Steve to drop us off at the library after school, yeah?” he asked Max as he stuffed his books and papers in his backpack, Max slinging her own backpack over her shoulder.

 

“Sure,” she responded, looking slightly confused at his new insistence and interest in the project. But before she could ask him anything more, he was gone, turning left out the door.

 

**_Hawkins Library._ **

 

“Thanksstevebye!” Mike said in one breath, shooting out of the passenger seat in a rush. Max followed behind him at a slower pace, squinting at his back in concern. She’d never seen him this determined to do a project. Not even when his English teacher let him write a narrative piece using all their D&D characters. 

 

She turned and waved at Steve, who looked thoroughly suspicious but drove off with the other three party members without asking. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the library and walked to the doors, entering only to see that Mike had already dumped his backpack at a desk and had disappeared into the shelves.

 

Oh well.

 

She made her way to the archives, beginning to look through where she  _ thought _ Derry would be when Mike skidded around the corner, arms already full of books. She looked at him in shock and concern; he leaned against the shelves, breathing heavily.

 

“Didn’t know if you knew where the archives were,” he said lamely after a bit. Max raised her eyebrows, then pointedly went back to searching. He took his cue to skitter back to wherever he had come from.

 

Turning back, she filtered through the dozens of newspaper articles, feeling a slight surge of victory when the headlines finally started to talk about Derry.

 

**Numbers of Missing Children Rise, Curfew Raised to 7:30**

 

Max paused at the headline, narrowing her eyes to read the fine print. Gradually, her eyes got wider and wider, so absorbed in the story that she didn’t hear Mike run back behind her, breathing even heavier now.

 

“Checked out the encyclopedias --” he gasped, pausing when he saw Max intensely reading a newspaper article. He jumped when she suddenly hit print, the printer making an immense groaning noise.

 

“What’s that?” he asked, and Max seemed to come out of a trance, whipping around.

 

“Read this,” she demanded, and he set down the books to come over and squint at the article.

 

“Curfew 7:30?” he asked incredulously, but soon shut up as soon as he read the rest.

 

“Six children missing,” Max whispered. Among the list was the kid Max had previously mentioned, Georgie Denbrough, but the list was longer than just the one; they had all the missing kids from the past fifty years.

 

“The numbers rise every 27 years,” Mike said, furrowing his eyebrows. What an exact number.

 

“It’s a weird pattern, for sure,” Max added, flipping through more articles and printing any that mentioned disappearances.

 

“They practically stopped last year, all the articles end after August,” Mike noticed after Max had printed more than five articles, looking between the dates of the few.

 

“Well, this town is certainly weird,” Max muttered, gathering together the papers she had printed. Steve had guaranteed them an hour, trying to fit in between all the curfews on each of the kids.

 

“The last article said that each of the bodies were found in the sewers, too,” Mike chimed in, depositing the encyclopedias in his backpack and zipping it up. He could lift it, but barely.

 

“You think they have a bunch of serial killers and copycats?” Max mused, and Mike shrugged.

 

“I don’t know,” he muttered, getting a strange feeling run down his spine as he watched Steve’s car near the library’s entrance.

 

He didn’t notice the red balloon tied to one of the trees outside the library, black letters cheerfully exclaiming, ‘I <3 Hawkins’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spooky! bet you didn't see that coming ;) (you probably did, it's very predictable). also, those towns on the assignment (other than derry) were selected at random, i've been to redstone, it's actually very interesting but very small and secluded. i also completely made up the population number for derry, so sorry if it's incorrect!
> 
> as always, any feedback is much appreciated, and you can always hmu at bottlefullofarsenic on tumblr!


	4. cuddle puddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so far my favorite chapter, features richie the perpetually cold and bill the blanket stealer. also, this doesn't have a time skip at the beginning but it does in the middle, so sorry if it's confusing at all!! 
> 
> enjoy!!

**_January 28, 1985. The Denbrough Residence._ **

 

“I’ve heard about Hawkins,” Mike said seriously, Richie scoffing immediately afterward.

 

“What? The  _ bad people _ live there?” he joked.

 

“Well, no,” Mike responded, rolling his eyes, “But it does have a bunch of rumors floating around it because of that facility. There have been a ton of cases of people, especially mothers, accusing the workers there of abducting their children and subjecting them to tests.”

 

Uncomfortable silence filled the gap after Mike’s words, everyone mulling over Mike’s words.

 

“Well, I don’t know if that is going to affect anything now, but I was going to invite you guys here next week,” Beverly cut in. Mike’s statement was effectively forgotten about, by everyone including him.

 

“Go over there? To see you?” Ben clarified, excitement clear in his tone.

 

“How can we convince all of our parents to let us go?” Eddie worried, and the level of excitement went down after that. They had forgotten about parents.

 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Beverly responded quickly. Her voice had taken on a strange tone, unnoticed by everyone except Stan. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the phone with a newfound suspicion. “Besides, like I said before, this house is  _ huge _ , and gets a little lonely sometimes.”

 

“Have you met my mother?” Eddie asked seriously.

 

“I don’t know. Sometimes parents can surprise you,” Beverly tried to convince him.

 

“She is the least surprising person I know.” 

 

“Well, try at least, okay? I really want to see you guys again,” Beverly compromised, the tone disappearing for a bit. 

 

“We’ll try,” Bill said back, and after a chorus of goodbyes, she hung up. 

 

“I need to study up on my conspiracy theories,” Richie said in a serious voice after Bill put the phone back on the hook. 

 

“Not really conspiracy theories, just claims from people that police don’t find credible,” Mike corrected. 

 

“Conspiracy theories,” Richie replied, insistent. Mike and Eddie rolled their eyes in unison. 

 

“Come on, I n-need to ki-ki-kick your asses in W-wa-war,” Bill interrupted, one foot on the stairs. 

 

“I will definitely win,” Richie argued, and the predicament of convincing their parents was forgotten for the moment. 

 

**_January 29, 1985. The Hanlon Barn._ **

 

Richie tugged the blanket over himself again, huddling closer to Stan on his right side. 

 

“I don't feel safe in this barn,” he grumbled, looking pointedly over everyone else’s heads to lock eyes with Mike’s heifer in the corner. She huffed softly. 

 

“It’s the only place big enough to hold all of us, and you've hogged all the blankets, so I don't know why you're complaining,” Stan snapped back, shuffling away slightly when Richie practically sat on him. 

 

“Yeah, c-co-come on! The rest uh-of us are f-f-f-freezing,” Bill complained. He set his pencil and sketchbook down, pointedly wrapping his arms around himself. 

 

“Plus, Bessie is the best! She’s so sweet,” Mike said enthusiastically, reaching up and over Ben’s bowed head to rub Bessie’s nose. She mooed happily. 

 

They were all supposed to be doing homework, laying out everything on the fresh straw on the barn floor and having a “group study”, like they informed their guardians. Really, they were just talking while Eddie, Stan and Ben did work. 

 

“You know Richie is reptilian, he can’t regulate his body temperature,” Eddie muttered, not looking up when Stan was flattened beside him by Richie putting his full weight onto the skinnier boy. 

 

“Mmph! Asshole!” Stan protested, Richie letting out a giggle when Stan flailed a bit with Richie laying directly on top of him. Bill reached over and snatched one of the many blankets wrapped firmly around Richie, ignoring the resulting hurt look. 

 

“Have any of you guys talked to your parents about the trip?” Ben cut in after a moment, Stan giving up and lying flat in the ground with Richie happily perched on top of him.

 

“Yeah, it w-wa-was super weird th-thuh-though,” Bill responded, furrowing his eyebrows, “They were completely fine with it.” 

 

“Same here,” Stan chimed in, craning his head to look at Bill. 

 

“My grandpa said yes, surprisingly, said that I needed to get out of the house,” Mike intoned, scowling a bit, “Whatever that means.”

 

“I was wondering about that, because my parents said okay and I thought it was strange,” Ben responded. 

 

“I about fell over when my mom said okay,” Eddie mumbled, and all heads turned. 

 

“Wait, your  _ mother agreed  _ to let you go on a trip?” Richie asked seriously, shifting forward slightly and planting an elbow in Stan’s ribs, making him yelp. “Is she okay? Are you sure I don’t need to pay a visit to my darling dear Ms. -” 

 

“Yes, she let me go,” Eddie snapped, cutting off whatever start Richie had. 

 

“This is weird. I don’t like it,” Stan muttered, finally getting Richie off him by rolling him away in all the blankets. 

 

“Come on, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Just be glad that all of you can go,” Richie retorted, suddenly sounding a bit bitter. All eyes turned to him, huddling in the blanket cocoon with a slightly sour expression. 

 

“... You can’t go?” Ben asked, a bit disbelievingly. 

 

“It’s not that,” Richie explained, now starting to look uncomfortable, “Let’s just say… my old man didn’t react too well when I mentioned going away. Pretty sure he thought I was running away or something.” 

 

Heavy silence greeted them, until Stan pierced it with a sharp tone and steely expression. 

 

“We’ll take you anyway. Sneak you out of the house if we need to.” 

 

“Y-Yeah! Heaven kn-kn-knows that you’d duh-do the s-s-s-same for us,” Bill interjected, reaching across the circle to grin reassuringly and pat Richie on the knee. Richie looked at them all suspiciously, quiet in his rare shy moment, before he matched Bill’s smile. 

 

“Thanks guys,” he said, suddenly feeling warm inside. 

 

“I’ll c-call Bev t-tuh-tomorrow to let her kn-kn-know,” Bill smiled again, leaning back and tugging the blanket around his shoulders more securely. 

 

“You annoy the hell out of me, but you know I wouldn’t let you miss something like this,” Stan continued, prompting Richie launch himself at the skinny boy, resuming his position of laying directly on top of him. 

 

“Come on, give it up,” Stan groaned, having hit the back of his head against the floor. 

 

“I think it’s pretty funny,” Eddie giggled, reaching down to pat Stan’s curly hair, only for Richie to grab his wrist and tug him so that the smaller boy was pulled into the growing pile of people, Richie wrapping a long arm around Eddie’s waist so he couldn’t escape. 

 

“I will get  _ all _ of you to join my cuddle puddle,” Richie said threateningly, looking challengingly at Bill, Ben and Mike. Bill gulped nervously. 

 

Needless to say, he fulfilled his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cuddle puddles are the best bc you end up all warm and soft and it's just the best feeling ever. also, soft stan!!! stan is my favorite character and i can't help but make him soft. (and no there isn't stozier in this story, richie is just one clingy boy) i feel like my love for bill's smiles are especially apparent bc i always describe them as so sunshiny but??? he's a sunshiny boy with a beautiful smile
> 
> as always, feedback is much appreciated, and you can always talk to me on my tumblr!!!


	5. sweet boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to try to write as much as i can this week since it's thanksgiving break, and i've finally figured out a schedule so i can get more to you guys in each chapter!
> 
> this one is a bit longer, and i hope you enjoy! ;)

**_January 30, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. Wheeler Residence._ **

 

Mike looked resolutely down at the articles spread along his desk, Walkman beside him playing one of Will’s mixtapes that he had given to Mike. It filled the silence somewhat.

 

The more and more Max and he looked into Derry, the stranger and more threatening it seemed to become. Every 27 years, something happened that resulted in the deaths of numerous children. 

 

Glancing at his clock beside him, Mike let out a slight groan at the time. 11:35. Later than Nancy wanted, but as seeing as Nancy was gone tonight at the Byers….. 

 

“She’ll find out,” Mike muttered to himself, putting the idea of staying up out of his mind. Nancy was like that - he do something, even with no visible evidence, and she’d find out immediately. It was nice, in a way. 

 

He reluctantly put all the papers into a stack, taking care to put them in the designated history folder and not just shove them into his backpack like he did his other papers. Max had made the point to tell him to keep them safe, and he didn’t feel like testing his limits. 

 

His mood seemed to dampen as he stepped out from his room to get to the bathroom, walking along the wall to avoid making the floor creak. Distantly, he could hear the TV downstairs playing  _ Jeopardy! _ and the faint splashes of his mother moving around in her bathtub. He paused in Holly’s doorway, hesitating a moment before he opened it a crack, grimacing when it squeaked. 

 

Holly was peacefully sleeping in her tiny bed, the one she had been so excited to get for her fourth birthday. She didn’t deserve this, Mike thought bitterly. She didn’t understand what was going on, she didn’t understand why Mike and Nancy were never home, it wasn’t fair. With a small sigh, he closed the door again. 

 

Every action he took while getting ready sounded obscenely loud in the quiet of the house - the rushing of the water out of the pipes, the scrub of his toothbrush, the opening and closing of the door. He winced every time, eventually shutting the door firmly to keep the noise out of the rest of the house. 

 

He wasn’t exceptionally tired, and wasn’t looking forward to what would undoubtedly be another night spent staring at his wall. However, Mike slid into his bed anyway and settled into the most comfortable position to wall-watch. 

 

After following the same pattern in his wallpaper for an hour, the clock blinking out 12:36,  Mike found the energy somewhere inside himself to close his eyes. He winced a bit at the sensation of his eyelids over his dry eyes, but kept them closed. 

 

When he opened them again, it was pitch black. 

 

He was upright  - frowning, he looked down and shifted one socked foot. He was surprised to find ripples like he was standing in water. His feet didn’t feel wet, more slightly warm and as if they were on a cushion. He took one hesitant step forward, adjusted to the movement, and continued on. 

 

The entire space seemed to be filled with light that wasn’t there, the water reflecting white when there was only black. He could see endlessly in either direction, navigating effortlessly in the black space. There were no visible landmarks, however, nothing to differentiate between the places he’d been and where he had to go. When Mike seemed to have walked miles in only a minute, he heard voices making garbled conversation. 

 

He froze. 

 

The voice faded out for a moment, as if it had stepped away from the receiver of a phone to talk to someone else, and then came back as if amplified. 

 

Mike winced at the volume of the laugh, stumbling back a few feet. It was as if someone had laughed directly next to his ear, with no person to accompany the sound. The laugh continued to run, accompanied by garbled words and sniffles. Mike clapped his hands over his ears in an effort to muffle it, waiting for it to stop.

 

After a few seconds of agonizing joy, the sound faded out again and didn’t return. Thoroughly spooked, Mike shakily removed his hands from his ears and looked around. The water around him hadn’t shifted, there were no ripples in the water, and there was no physical source of the laughter. He continued hesitantly forward, far more cautious than before. 

 

After another solid, tense moment of nothing but the sounds of his feet splashing through the water, another voice came from behind him, this time in full words. 

 

“Don’t  _ call _ me that.”

 

Mike yelped, spinning around to see a small, pale boy in a pink polo, brown shorts, and black fanny pack glaring up at a someone Mike could not see. He seemed to react negatively to the same someone responding, stepping forward furiously to snap, “Beep beep, Richie!” 

 

Mike stepped back a bit, seeing as the boy was now in his personal space, and yelped again when he saw another boy in front of him, back to him, in the direct space Mike had just occupied. It was as if he had appeared by magic - perhaps by his name? - and materialized in Mike’s own body. Mike shivered at the thought as he stalked around the two, freezing again when he saw the second boy’s face. 

 

It was his own. 

 

It wasn’t exactly his, with thick glasses magnifying the boy’s eyes comically, and his hair a bit more curly than Mike allowed his to be, but if Mike had seen him in a picture he would have certainly thought it was a distorted photo of himself. 

 

The boy with his face (Richie, presumably) responded in the same garbled voice Mike had heard earlier, so mutilated that Mike couldn’t make out any words, finishing it off with yet another head-splitting laugh. 

 

“Stan, Bill, can you keep him under control?” the smaller boy sighed, and two other boys materialized, making Mike jump again. It seemed any mentioned names made the person conjure. 

 

“Eleven,” Mike whispered under his breath, speaking for the first time since he had found himself in this space. A moment passed; nothing happened. His shoulders slumped. “Of course,” he grumbled. He didn’t notice as Richie suddenly perked up, looking directly at him. 

 

“I’m s-s-suh-sorry, Eddie, but if y-you can’t guh-guh-get him under control, I don’t know if anyone ca-can,” the boy with the straight hair apologized, and the small boy (Eddie, now) threw up his hands. 

 

“Stan?” he demanded, and the boy with the curly hair shrugged in his picking at his cuticles. 

 

“Same deal as Bill, you’re virtually his lea-” Stan was interrupted by more garbling from Richie, and Mike turned, only to flinch at the intensity of the boy’s stare. It sent chills up Mike’s spine to stare back into his own eyes without a mirror to separate them, but he held the gaze. 

 

“Hear what?” Eddie responded, all irritation gone from his face, replaced almost immediately by concern. Mike would’ve laughed if he wasn’t frozen in a staring contest with his doppelganger. 

 

Richie garbled something more, breaking eye contact with Mike to point wildly at him, and it was as if Mike regained feeling in his arms and legs. He stumbled back, colliding with Eddie, except they made no contact; as soon as Mike touched Eddie, the smaller boy dissipated in white smoke. 

 

Mike looked around wildly as Bill did the same after a moment, Stan following with a bewildered look on his face, and Mike turned to see his face only inches from his own, Richie coming at him with such intensity in his eyes that Mike stopped in his tracks. Richie disappeared in smoke as his and Mike’s noses touched, seeming to melt into Mike. Mike moved again, walking back a few feet and stopped to catch his breath. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. 

 

Suddenly, as if it had been waiting for Mike to stop moving, bone-chilling laughter filled the air. It was different from Richie’s, not quite as deafening or obnoxious, yet just as debilitating and fear-inducing. It seemed to freeze Mike in place, as Richie’s made him want to move, run,  _ do _ something. 

 

“Richie, Mikey, Mikey, Richie,” another voice giggled in a sing-song, high-pitched and threatening. Mike tried to move, but he soon found he was literally stuck in place. “The two sweetest boys you’ll ever meet.”

 

Mike’s breathing quickened as he felt something come up behind him, the white light in the water in front of him disappearing as  _ something _ towered over him. His legs were trembling violently, but some unknown force was keeping him up.

 

“Sweet, sweet, sweet boys,” the voice crooned, much closer now, and Mike shook more as he felt something wet dribble into his hair. 

 

“So sweet, so good and nice to  _ eat _ , but Mister said not to, said that they were  _ special boys _ ,” it continued, and Mike choked out a fearful sob as one menacing clawed hand placed itself on his shoulder, his peripherals barely blurring out the sharpness of the talons, “Special boys, who Mister  _ told _ Pennywise to keep until later, later to  **float!** ”

 

At the word float, the hand tightened and Mike let out a scream as the claws suddenly sunk into his shoulder. The laughter started again, becoming more and more hysterical as Mike screamed, struggling to dislodge the hand from his shoulder, the one that was  _ tearing his arm out _ \- - 

 

“Mike, Mike, it’s okay, Mike, I’m here.” 

 

Mike awoke suddenly, thrashing in his bed as a figure in front of him tried to calm him. 

 

“Mike - It’s Nancy - it’s okay,” she soothed, catching his hand as he wildly swung out at her. He stilled for a moment, his chest heaving, the fear still coursing through his veins, the feeling of his arm detaching still in his mind. 

 

He grabbed at his shoulder then, choking out a sob of relief to find it still there, and surged forward into a surprised Nancy, who stumbled for a moment before holding him. 

 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she repeated, feeling helpless as she sat down next to Mike, holding his as he cried. 

 

“I - I thought you we - were at the Byers,” he managed, burying his face into her neck. Nancy put her hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair and clutching him closer to her. 

 

“I just got home,” she replied, glancing at the bedside clock on Mike’s nightstand, bright green letters blinking out 12:45. 

 

Mike didn’t say anything else, instead curling further into Nancy and wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. They remained there, Nancy eventually guiding Mike so they could lay down. Neither spoke, and Mike didn’t offer an explanation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheeler siblings make me :,,,) this is probably the juiciest chapter yet, but i hope the next one will come up to standard ;0 
> 
> again, i'm hoping to get as much as i can done this week, because finals are coming up and this is the only free week i have until christmas :( hopefully i'll be able to post every tuesday, but if not i'm very sorry!
> 
> as always, feedback of any kind makes my day and inspires to me write!


	6. thanks mom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey wow another longer chapter!!!!!! (and so quick too!!!) this isn't as action packed as the as the last one, but it is important!!!!! the meeting between the two groups is coming up soon ;OOO
> 
> the next one is gonna be a bit different, but i hope you'll like it just as much as these ones!!!! you don't have to worry about that now, though, so enjoy!!!!!

**_January 31, 1985. Derry, Maine. The Barrens._ **

 

“Do you have a valid excuse why we’re here at the asscrack of dawn, when it’s the middle of the winter?” Stan griped, propping his bike up on its kickstand in the sea of the other two discarded ones. His breath made small clouds of white every time he spoke, and he had a scarf wrapped firmly around his neck and lower face, coupled with his long coat and mittens. Eddie was even more wrapped up than him, a gigantic coat coupled with two scarves and snowboots making him look ridiculous. Richie was the least dressed of the three of them, no scarves, hats or gloves and just a thin rain jacket draped over him. Stan could see him visibly shaking. “We have to go to school in, like, half an hour.”

 

“This is where I h-heard that v-v-voice,” Richie insisted while his teeth chattered, sliding across the thick ice to the entrance to the sewers, a sight that made Stan shiver from something outside of the cold. 

 

“It was late at night, are you sure you didn’t just hear an animal or something?” Eddie huffed, rubbing his hands together. Richie shot him an annoyed look, the shivering worsening so that his entire body seemed to be vibrating. 

 

“Wh-what k-k-k-kind of an-n-nimal says-s-s-s ‘Of c-c-course?” he snapped, and Stan stepped forward, unwrapping his scarf to firmly wrap Richie’s neck in it. 

 

“I don’t know, but I  _ do _ know that you’re going to freeze to death if you don’t get better clothes on you soon,” Stan said in concern, abandoning the sarcastic front he usually put up. Richie shrugged him off, but kept the scarf around himself. 

 

“I’m s-s-serious, guys, f-fu-fu-for once in my life,” Richie continued, stepping further into the frozen sewer. Stan paused in the entrance, the feeling of foreboding overwhelming him. 

 

“Can’t we do it after school? We have to be there in,” Eddie pleaded, tugging down three layers to get at his watch, “Twenty minutes.” 

 

Richie stopped in the tunnel, rubbing his arms to warm himself up. He  _ knew _ what he heard, and it certainly hadn’t been an animal or his imagination. However, he had never been one to intentionally skip classes, and he wasn’t about to start now. 

 

“F-fine,” he compromised after a moment, and then attempted to make the atmosphere lighter as he walked back to where Stan and Eddie were waiting. “Hey, I may be hearing th-things, but make sh-sh-sure to get rid of this st-st-stutter, yeah? We already hah-have one stutterer.” 

 

Eddie snorted as Stan rolled his eyes, but pulled Richie under his arm. 

 

“Don’t freeze to death when you’re riding bike, okay?” he sighed, “I may hate you, but I don’t want you to have hypothermia.” 

 

“In fact, Richie, I’m giving you one of my jackets because the chances of you catching pneumonia from being out here are rising every second, and I really don’t want you to be in the hospital,” Eddie cut in seriously, unzipping his jacket to reveal another, bright orange down jacket. Richie let out a laugh, Stan raising his eyebrows at Eddie. 

 

“How many do you have on?” he asked, and Eddie’s cheeks went silightly pink. He mumbled something, and both Richie and Stan leaned in closer. 

 

“Sorry, couldn’t hear that,” Richie grinned, slipping on the jacket even though it was slightly too small for him. 

 

“Four, okay? My mom made me wear all my warmest clothes and I feel like I’m going to explode!” Eddie snapped, “Now let’s leave before we’re late, okay assholes?”

 

Richie cackled, pulling up his bike and hooking one long leg over it. 

 

“Four, I’m pretty sure that’s a record, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie teased as the three of the biked back up to the school, Stan quietly laughing to himself. 

 

“ _ Don’t call me that! _ ”

 

**_January 31, 1985. Derry, Maine. The Denbrough Residence._ **

 

“Did you ever talk to Beverly, Big Bill?” Richie cut across the conversation, making Stan look at him with a glare. 

 

“I’m trying to explain this to Mike-” he snapped, but Eddie put a hand on his shoulder, softly shrugging and shaking his head. Stan rolled his eyes, recognizing that he wouldn’t go anywhere with Richie today. 

 

They were all sprawled in Bill’s living room, a New Hope playing in the background but no one paying any attention. Mike was listening to Stan’s intensive education about the types of birds that inhabited Maine during the winter, and everyone else was doing their own thing - Richie playing solitaire, Eddie and Ben working on algebra, Bill sitting cross legged on the couch with his sketchbook laid neatly in his lap. 

 

“Huh? Oh, yuh-yeah, she said th-th-that it’s great, and w-we-we can come over by bus on Sunday, maybe come back on Saturday next week,” Bill blinked, adjusting his position on the couch. 

 

“Oof, I don’t know if I have that kind of money. And don’t we have school next week?” Ben worried, looking up from his paper, and Stan nodded. 

 

“That’s the week of February 4, right? As far as I know, there’s no national holiday during that time, so I’m pretty sure we have school,” he reasoned, and all eyes turned to Bill. He held up his hands, looking startled. 

 

“D-don’t look at m-m-me, guys, I’m just the m-mess-messenger,” he said, and they all slumped down in disappointment. 

 

“Great! Now, Mike, the bird I saw on the bank was  _ super _ rare, especially given that it’s January - “ Stan clapped his hands together, going back into the excited voice he usually reserved for talking about bird. 

 

“Now, Stan the Man, that doesn’t mean our predicament is solved,” Richie drawled, and Stan stiffened again, clearly getting frustrated. 

 

“She lives in Indiana, right? That’s a lot of money for a bus ride,” Eddie chimed in, and Richie turned back to look at him. 

 

“I’m sure you can cop the money from your dear mother, tell her there’s this new allergy medication you’ve been  _ dying _ to try out,” he suggested, and Eddie sputtered. 

 

“That’s not how you buy medicine, Richie,” Eddie said, outraged, and Mike cut in before anything else could be said. 

 

“I don’t think the money is too much of an issue. The issue, however, is school. How can we get our parents to get us to miss a week of school?” Mike reasoned. 

 

“Well, fuck,” Richie said eloquently after a pregnant pause, going back to his game of solitaire. 

 

“They were perfectly fine with us going in the first place, I don’t know why they wouldn’t excuse us,” Eddie responded, and Richie quirked an eyebrow as he moved two of his stacks of cards.

 

“That… w-was weird, b-buh-but you have a point,” Bill agreed, closing his sketchbook. “Let me t-tr-try something r-re-real quick.” 

 

Ben and Eddie exchanged confused glances when Bill got up from the couch and walked to the stairs, angling his face up. 

 

“Mom!” he shouted, making Eddie jump and Richie snicker. A muffled reply from upstairs, Bill taking a moment to comprehend the answer. “Bev s-s-sa-said that we could m-m-m-meet her on Monday if we t-took a bus on Sunday. Would th-th-that be okay with you?”

 

Another muffled reply, and Bill looked suspicious for a moment before replying one last time. “Okay, th-thanks Mom!”

 

“I’m assuming she’s fine with it?” Richie surmised, and Bill nodded as he walked back to the couch. 

 

“This is too weird,” Stan muttered, turning away from Mike to nervously pick at his cuticles. “I don’t like it.” 

 

“I’m with Stan on this one,” Eddie said firmly. 

 

“This  _ is _ giving me a weird vibe, but I think we should go,” Mike said slowly, everyone else looking at him in surprise. 

 

“I agree with Mike, it’ll be good to get out of Maine, plus it’ll be nice to see Bev,” Ben continued, blushing slightly when Richie gave him a knowing smirk. 

 

“I don’t like it,” Stan insisted. Eddie looked back and forth between him and the two others, doubt coming to show clearly on his face. 

 

“I don’t like it, either, but…” he drew out, thinking hard, “I don’t know. I don’t know when the next opportunity will present itself like this, especially one where my mother is willing to let me go.” 

 

Stan looked up from his hands incredulously, staring at Eddie for a moment before switching to Bill. Bill shrugged. 

 

“It will be n-n-nice, I don’t know th-the last t-t-t-t-t-“ Bill paused, frowning in frustration when he couldn’t spit the word out, “T-time I left this town.”

 

Stan looked from face to face, scowling deeper and deeper. 

 

“This is stupid,” he declared, moving from picking at his nails to fiddle with his collar, “You know that no one would be willing to let us go on a trip like this, and I don’t know why they’d let us now, and the fact that Richie  _ heard _ something last night and I heard - “ Stan stopped in his rant, breathing a little too hard and twisting his fingers in the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t remember when he stood up, and he didn’t recall when Bill had reached up to grab his shoulder, face bright with concern. 

 

“What did you hear?” Mike said lowly, and Stan swallowed. 

 

“Laughter,” he whispered, and it went silent. 

 

“Like..?” Richie trailed off, not needing to finish. Stan nodded. 

 

“It was right after you heard someone say ‘of course’,” he said softly, “And, and I thought it was just because we were back by the sewers, but you were talking about hearing that voice and…” 

 

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. After a moment he sat back down, feeling slightly embarrassed from his outburst, going to back to picking at his nails. 

 

“We agreed to kill It if It came back,” Mike said in a strong voice, and everyone turned to see him trace the scar on the palm of his left hand that was identical to everyone else’s. Stan looked at his own left hand, a sick feeling rising up in his stomach. 

 

“Oh good, now our trip has the added horror of this fucking clown,” Richie sneered, sounding entirely too fed up. 

 

“Great,” Ben mumbled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jaws theme begins playing* nah, but i wouldn't worry about penny right now!! that's all i'm saying, but y'all better prepare for The Meeting soon ;))
> 
> also the fact that they all forget almost immediately is.... kinda inconvenient?? so i'm making it so that they still remember, but it's all sort of fuzzy. plus, i don't think that bill would forget about his brother DYING just like that. idk, but that's my two cents! 
> 
> i hope you guys liked it, and as always, feedback is soooo appreciated and keeps me writing!!!


	7. language, shithead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy thanksgiving! i'm back with another chapter, i honestly don't know where i'm getting all this motivation but i sure am thankful for it, lol. this time it's more eleven-centric, since i sort of (unintentionally) left her in the dark. i hope you all like it!!

**_January 31, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. The Hopper Cabin._ **

 

“Oh, Richard, I simply  _ cannot _ go on without you,” Silvia on the screen gushed, swooning as to make Richard catch her, placing one delicate hand on her chest. 

 

Eleven mimicked the action, mouthing along to Silvia’s romantic monologue as the soap opera starlet lamented in her lover’s arms. 

 

“Geez, you watch this regularly?” A voice from behind Eleven startled her, and she whirled around to see Steve leaning against one of the beams in the house, cocking one eyebrow as he watched the TV. 

 

“Yes,” Eleven answered softly, getting up from the couch to get on her shoes. Steve walked away from the beam, turning off the TV and fiddling with the remote absentmindedly as Eleven meticulously tied her shoes, careful to tighten the laces just so. 

 

“I hear they’ve got quite a story to tell you today, something about Mike having a clown nightmare?” Steve mused after a few seconds of silence, pulling Eleven up when she offered him a hand. She frowned a bit, thinking as she slid on the heavy jacket Hopper had left her for colder weather. “Never took him as a kid to have a phobia of clowns, but then again they’re creepy motherfuckers, and I don’t blame him.”

 

“I heard Mike last night,” she offered as they stepped out into the cold forest, her revelling in the sensation of the cold biting into her cheeks as Steve huffed out a cloud of white breath, tugging his own jacket closer around him. They started walking towards the road, carefully stepping over the tripwire and taking care to keep as quiet as possible. 

 

Thursdays had become designated visit days for El, either the boys going to the cabin or Eleven going to the Byers. There were still complaints - mostly from Mike and El - but the six had settled into the routine, Max quickly being integrated into El’s list of friends. 

 

“Yeah? What’d he say?” Steve asked, stepping over a particularly large branch in his way. Steve had become the unofficial chauffeur for each of the kids, especially for Eleven’s visits; he constantly complained and grumbled about it, but they all knew he enjoyed it. He only insisted that they give him gas money in payment for their “lazy asses getting carted around, can’t you just bike there like you used to?”

 

“Just my name,” Eleven replied, Steve’s car coming into sight, “But he was in the mind space. I don’t know how he got there.” 

 

Steve was silent for a moment, taking in this new information. He had only heard of this “mind space” once from Dustin, when he had asked the boy the details of the new telekinetic girl who had suddenly had a place in everyone’s lives. He knew that Eleven could enter it to find others, which was why it made her so desirable for the government officials in the Hawkins Lab. Other than that, his knowledge was limited. 

 

“I don’t think he could see me, either,” she continued, opening the door to his passenger side, “He was watching these boys argue, and then…”

 

“Then?” Steve prompted after a moment, glancing to her after he started the car. She seemed to be thinking deeply about her next words, choosing them carefully. 

 

“A clown,” was all she said, but there was glint in her eyes and Steve didn’t think it would be good for his health to push her further. 

 

Heavy silence floated between the two for a few minutes, Steve breaking it after it became unbearable for him. 

 

“It seems your stories match up, so I wonder what’s going on,” Steve tried to keep his voice light, which was becoming increasingly difficult as he could feel El’s intense gaze focusing on the side of his face. 

 

“It hurt him. Ripped his arm out.”

 

The words that came out of Eleven’s mouth, in such a sharp tone, made Steve tense up, white-knuckling the steering wheel. He didn’t know much about the mind space, but from what he had heard…

 

“That doesn’t make sense, because doesn’t the mind space echo the real world?” Steve chose his words carefully, glancing over at Eleven and blanching at the menacing expression clear on her face. Jesus, sometimes that kid was  _ terrifying _ . “If Mike had lost his arm in the real world, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be able to visit him at all today.” 

 

“Usually,” Eleven answered, losing the steely tone that he associated with the times she would throw something across the room with her mind, and another glance revealed that she was looking out the window. 

 

“Well, I do know that he’s pretty shaken up. He’ll be glad to see you,” Steve continued, pulling into the Byers’ driveway. The phone call from Nancy that morning had been unexpected and slightly uncomfortable, but when she had explained the events of last night with a tremor in her voice, he had agreed that it would be best to talk with the kid. To see if it was really a threat worth investigating. 

 

Jonathan opened the door when Eleven knocked, permanently tired eyes widening at Steve as Eleven pushed past the teenager into the house. 

 

“Oh - Steve, hi. Uh, come in,” he said awkwardly, shuffling aside. Steve held in a frustrated sigh. No matter how many times he told Jonathan and Nancy - and that number had been climbing steadily - they still didn’t seem to get it that Steve wasn’t mad. Not a bit. Maybe try #345 would work. 

 

“Still not mad at you, dude,” Steve said casually, slinging his jacket off and keeping an eye of the kids in the living room.  _ Jesus _ , Mike looked like hell. 

 

Ignoring Jonathan’s indignant spluttering, Steve pushed his way through the group, making sure to stop and ruffle up Dustin’s hat (“Hey, asshole!”) before standing before Mike, with Eleven on one side, Will on the other. Steve put his hands on his hips, casting one look over the exhausted-looking kid. He had both arms, sure, but it seemed like that clown had really fucked him up. 

 

“Dude, you’re right in front of me, and I really don’t want a view of your ass,” Max snapped from behind him, and Steve looked over his shoulder at her. 

 

“Language, shithead,” he snapped back, going back to studying Mike for a second before sitting down beside Will. Will looked especially concerned for Mike, wide eyes flitting all over his best friend’s face, one hand resting on Mike’s leg. 

 

“I’m sure you’ve heard the story from Nancy,” was all that Mike said, and Steve shrugged. 

 

“Well, sure, but I also heard a bit from Eleven here,” Steve nodded in the direction of the girl, who looked at him, startled, for a moment before returning Mike’s questioning look. 

 

“You called my name,” she said simply, which didn’t seem to enlighten Mike any more. 

 

“But - I couldn’t see you…?” he trailed off, looking even more confused. 

 

“I don’t understand it, but I saw you,” Eleven shrugged, and then frowned a bit, “And those boys.”

 

“Richie, Eddie, Bill and Stan,” Mike said immediately. 

 

“And you said you couldn’t understand anything Richie was saying, like his voice was all distorted?” Lucas pursued, and Mike nodded. 

 

“And his laugh was weirdly loud. Everyone else I could understand, but just not him.” It was clear in his tone that Mike was annoyed at this fact, frustrated that he couldn’t figure this out. 

 

“And he looked  _ exactly _ like you?” Dustin asked, dumbfounded, and Mike nodded again, shoulders hitching up a bit. 

 

“Same, but with glasses,” Eleven supplied, recognizing that Mike was getting tired of being interrogated. Dustin stared at Mike a bit, squinting his eyes before he threw his hands up in the air. 

 

“I can’t see it. Will’s gonna have to draw it, or something,” he exclaimed. 

 

“Is that really the important part here?” Steve interrupted before things could escalate, seeing that both Mike and Will had opened their mouths to retaliate. 

 

“Yes! It’s important to know the physical facts, too!” Dustin insisted. 

 

“It’s not important enough to derail the fact that Mike had contact with a hostile being in the mind space, Dustin,” Max chimed in, saving Steve from having to stop Will from yelling at Dustin. The small boy was fuming, clearly furious that the others didn’t seem to be taking Mike seriously. 

 

“Could you understand him, Eleven?” Lucas asked the telekinetic girl, determined to get the conversation back on track. Eleven nodded. 

 

“He made jokes,” she said, “And he could hear you, Mike.” 

 

“Hear me?” Steve leaned forward as Mike asked Eleven, looking more confused than ever. 

 

“He was pointing at you, staring at you?” she returned the confused tone. 

 

A moment of heavy silence filled the room, broken by Will’s prompting. 

 

“What about the clown, Mike?” he asked softly, putting his hand more securely on Mike’s leg when the boy tensed up. 

 

“It called itself Pennywise, and it mentioned a ‘mister’ or something like that,” Mike supplied, but it was clear that he had entered a subject that he wasn’t comfortable with. 

 

“The Mind Flayer?” Max mused, which sent the whole room into a flurry of worried titter. Mike seemed to shrink into himself, which gave Steve the signal that it was time to change the subject. 

 

“We can’t decide if it’s really the Mind Flayer or not,” he declared, “and it’s not going to help anything to worry ourselves to death with conspiracy theories. What is it you nerds do other than argue and play those nerd games at the arcade?” 

 

There was confused silence for a second before Dustin hesitantly said, “Dungeons and Dragons?” 

 

Steve frowned. “What in the hell is  _ that _ ?” 

 

“You haven’t told him about Dungeons and Dragons?” Lucas asked Dustin, scandalized. Mike shot Steve a grateful glance, already pulling out a folded piece of paper that had been in his jacket pocket. 

 

“How about we teach him?” Mike asked, newfound mischief in his eyes, and Steve felt as if he had just signed his own death certificate. The pitying glance from Jonathan in the kitchen only amplified his dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will is the physical embodiment of the ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ emoticon whenever someone doesn't respect his friends lol, even when they're his other friends!!! steve is about to get his d&d education, too, and i can only hope that the kids go easy on him :,,,,) again, this chapter wasn't very action-packed, but it's building up to a really big chapter that i'm planning out, so i hope all of you can stay with me through these expository scenes before we get to the good stuff!!!
> 
> as always, feedback keeps me writing, and i hope you enjoyed!!!!


	8. eleven?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bigger chapter for all you out there!!! my week off is coming to a close, so i wouldn't expect a chapter a day any more, but weekly updates (hopefully every tuesday!!!) also, we're coming up to the meeting chapter!!! exciting!!!!! for now, though, it's just a sort of road trip montage of the losers. 
> 
> enjoy!!!!

**_February 3, 1985. Derry, Maine. Number 13 Bus Stop. 6:30 am._ **

 

“Richie, I get that it’s early and you’re not awake yet, but please get off my shoulder.” 

 

Richie responded to Ben’s polite request by snuggling closer to the shorter boy, practically resting his entire upper body on him. After a moment, he placed a kiss on his forehead which made Ben’s cheeks light up, and stood up straight again. 

 

“How long have we been waiting here? It has to have been at least an hour,” Richie griped, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. It wasn’t quite as cold as yesterday had been, especially with the five others huddled around him, but his threadbare coat didn't do much to protect against the frigid breeze that somehow got into their little pack. 

 

“It’s been ten minutes, Rich. You'll be fine,” Ben reassured. Richie groaned, dropping his head back on the shorter boy’s shoulder.

 

“Shouldn’t it have come by now?” Eddie worried, wrapped up firmly in another giant scarf and snug jacket. “The timetable said 6:30, and it’s 6:32.” 

 

“It’s g-g-gonna be okay, Ed-d-die,” Bill reassured, putting a hand on the small boy’s shoulder. 

 

Just as he said that, the labored rumble of a bus came into earshot, and a moment later the dingy and faded bus pulled up to a stop in front of the small group, puttering as the doors screeched open. 

 

“See?” Richie grinned down at Eddie, who gave a small relieved smile before entering the bus after Stan. The seats were all faded to match the outside of the vehicle, red seats and grey lining, bored commuters staring out the streaked windows with Walkmans blocking everything else around them. A few gave confused looks to the flood of teenage boys that had just entered the bus, but a brilliant smile from Eddie and apologetic look from Stan seemed to answer their question, or at least appease them for the moment.

 

Richie came up five cents short of the bill - the bus driver fixed him with a bored stare before letting him on anyway. 

 

“Not like you can do much trouble,” she mumbled, taking the money from Bill and waving him on; Bill raised his eyebrows pointedly at the shorter boy, as if to say,  _ Don’t prove her wrong _ . Richie decided to ease off the jokes in the first thirty minutes, at least. No promises.

 

Plopping down across from Stan and Eddie, he stretched out his long legs to poke Stan’s neatly crossed ones. He frowned, moving them as to be on either side of Richie’s. Richie grinned before winking at Stan, who gave him a very unimpressed stare. 

 

“Stop f-fl-flirting, it’s t-tuh-too early,” Bill grumped, sitting next to Richie. 

 

“Aw, Big Bill, don’t get jealous, you know I love you just as much,” Richie crooned, bending himself as to lay his head on Bill’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes. 

 

Bill rolled his eyes and got up, almost making Richie fall off the seat. Richie caught himself with one hand, watching as Bill switched with Mike. Mike came to take Bill’s previous seat, seeming to groan internally when Richie took up the same position with his head on Mike’s shoulder. 

 

“Hey, Eddie, you know when this bus gets to Hawkins, anyway?” Richie asked once the bus had begun to move again, Ben settled in the seat next to Bill in the seats across from Richie, Stan, Eddie and Mike. He took his head off of Mike’s shoulder, who seemed to accept the position and had just pulled out his book, to look at Eddie. The smaller boy had a slightly pinched look on his face that Richie couldn’t read, staring at Richie and Stan’s legs before seeming to come alive and look at Richie as if he had just been caught. 

 

“Uh, eleven tonight?” he stammered, taking in the slow change in Richie’s face from chill to almost desperate, his mouth and eyes gaping wide, almost comically so. 

 

“ _ Eleven?! _ ”

 

**_9 am. Woodstock, Vermont._ **

 

“I’m going to die.”

 

“Richie, please stop being so fatalistic,” Stan sighed, looking up from his book on cardinals to look at Richie. He had brought minimal things other than his clothes, thinking that all that he needed to entertain himself was his Voices and his friends. 

 

He found that thought to be wrong when one of the adult commuters had complained to the bus driver after Richie had sent himself into a coughing fit from his Chronic Smoker’s voice, making the bus driver make a public announcement for the “little boy in the back to stop making fun of the other passengers, please”. Richie had spent the next hour in relative quiet after that, making Eddie concerned that he had lost his voice from that last impression. 

 

He was almost bursting at the seams from the need to  _ do something _ , bouncing one leg while tapping on the armrest with his right hand, intensely staring out the window. He hadn’t even brought his beat-up Walkman. 

 

“Here. Fiddle with these. You’re making me anxious just looking at you,” Mike’s low voice interrupted Richie’s scattered and cluttered thoughts, making him look over to the boy at his side. He was holding out a stack of playing cards, haphazardly tied with a rubberband, well worn at the edges. Richie almost started crying. 

 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Richie gushed as he grabbed the cards from Mike’s hand, getting the overwhelming urge to kiss Mike’s forehead. He did so on impulse, winking at the man that glared at him afterward. Mike only rolled his eyes and gave Richie an easy grin, going back to his book, The Catcher in the Rye or whatever. Mike had told him once that the main character reminded him of Richie; Richie didn’t see it.

 

Richie easily fell into the routine of shuffling the cards, making Eddie shudder every time the cards made a sound louder than being placed together. 

 

“Sorry Spaghetti, I’d rather do this than cut my own hand off,” Richie said casually, accentuating the statement by tapping the cards against the metal armrest, making a bang. Eddie winced. 

 

**_10 am. Queensbury, New York._ **

 

Richie frustratedly grabbed the cards from Eddie’s lap, adding them to his hand with a huff. Eddie had a mischievous grin on his face, Stan a perfect poker face, and Mike kept bleeding. 

 

“I can see your cards, Mike,” Richie said casually, slapping down a card at the same time as Stan. Mike spluttered, accidentally dropping a few cards in his rush to simultaneously cover his cards and put one down. 

 

“Does that even matter in war?” he asked breathlessly, bending down to grab his own cards from his hand, as well as the ones from the others. Stan stifled a yawn, reaching up to rub at his eyes and look at his watch. 

 

“It’s ten,” he commented, flipping over another card without looking. 

 

“Agh! War!” Eddie cried at Stan, who looked down finally to frown at his cards as if they had betrayed him. Richie gave out a groan, slumping down in his seat. 

 

“It hasn’t even gotten halfway yeeeeeet,” he whined, sitting up again when Stan won and Eddie reluctantly gathered up the mass of cards. “And of  _ course _ it matters, Mike, then I can see whether or not I should put down my card or not.”

 

“Doesn’t that mean you’re cheating?” Mike said dryly. Richie promptly hushed him, putting down another card. 

 

“Don’t worry, Richie, we get off at 12, and it’s an hour until we have our next bus, you can probably find something to entertain yourself with once you get out of this bus,” Eddie reassured, putting a hand on Richie’s knee. Richie gave him a thankful smile, before pulling an ace on top of Eddie’s king. 

 

“You  _ fucker! _ ” Eddie yelled, making the same man from earlier glare at them again. Richie let out a guffaw.

 

**_12 am. Utica, New York._ **

 

“Oh my god, I can walk again,” Richie gushed, dramatically throwing himself on the ground in front of the bus stop sign. Curious residents stared at him as he kissed the ground, butt in the air and face planted directly on the cracked pavement. Eddie and Ben had already taken refuge from the scene he was making, walking at least twenty feet away and watching from afar. Stan resisted the urge to smack his ass, instead kicking him behind the knee. 

 

“Richie, get up before I kill you,” he hissed, Eddie shooting him a relieved glance. 

 

“Stan, we’re on  _ solid ground _ . I’ve never been more relieved,” Richie moaned, almost obscenely, and Stan could feel his face getting warmer, barely resisting the sudden and powerful impulse to shove his foot up Richie’s ass. 

 

Bill saved him from the temptation of violence by leaning down and dragging Richie up, Mike joining in to keep him upright. 

 

“C-come on, Rich-ch-chie, there’s a point and y-yuh-you crossed it,” Bill complained, placing his arm securely around Richie’s shoulders as to prevent him from going on the ground again. Richie nodded thoughtfully. 

 

“You're right, you're right. I'll make it up to you guys with an hour of silence,” he admitted, leaning into Bill. Bill kept quiet. “Once we get back on the bus, of course.”

 

Mike groaned, following Stan, Eddie and Ben into the small corner store. 

 

“What?” Richie called, moving away from Bill to call after Mike. “You can't expect me to be quiet when I haven't been able to walk on unmoving ground for  _ years! _ ” 

 

Bill huffed, but this time with a smile on his face, leading Richie into the corner store. 

 

“You're s-s-so obnoxious, Trashm-m-mouth,” he laughed, affectionately ruffling Richie’s hair. Richie grinned so that his entire face seemed to scrunch up. 

 

“That's the goal, Big Bill.”

 

The corner store was just that, slightly cramped and strangely lit with fluorescent lights, shelves crammed with everything from bandages and medical supplies to batteries and flashlights to snacks and sodas. Most of them made a beeline to the snack shelves, immersing themselves in the grid of cheesy crackers, pretzels and trail mix. 

 

Bill ambled toward the coolers in the back, hesitating before reaching in and grabbing a Jolt Cola. His mother didn’t care much about what he drank and ate, but she  _ did _ vehemently advocate against his drinking of Jolt. Too much caffeine, she said. He was filled with a slight thrill as he held the can in his hand. They were going to be on the bus for the next 12 hours, he deserved a little pick-me-up. 

 

He caught sight of Stan’s curly hair poking over the top of the shelves that held all the healthier snacks, as opposed to where Richie had previously been, in the junkier snacks with the others. Bill frowned when he saw that Richie wasn’t there anymore, looking over the shelves to look for the familiar head of black curls. He gave a small sigh of relief when he spotted the bespectacled boy over by the counter, speaking animatedly to the cashier while she rang up his Cheezits and Snapple Tru Root Beer with a bemused expression on her face. 

 

Eddie was behind Richie, clutching a water bottle and small bag of Doritos, looking thrilled and just a tad guilty that he was holding the bag of chips. His mother was intensely strict on what Eddie ate, packing him a lunch full with what Richie called “rabbit food” to prevent the potential illnesses the small boy could get from the school food. Often times one of the Losers would sneak a pack of chips or a soda to him, or whenever he would stay over at the Denbroughs he would treat himself to pizza and Coke. 

 

Ben and Stan were behind Eddie, both with water bottles, same as Eddie, and trail mix. Mike came up to them with his hands full of Pringles and Cheezits and candy, looking excited. 

 

Bill realized he hadn’t gotten himself anything to eat, quickly walking over to the snack shelves while the others paid. He only had twenty dollars for food, and he was looking to save most of it for food while at Bev’s. He picked the cheapest thing he saw, a small pack of salted peanuts, before turning to walk toward the counter. 

 

“Hiya, Big Bill.”

 

Bill jumped at the voice, spoken as if someone was whispering into his ear, whipping around to see whoever could be the culprit. 

 

There was no one around him. The only possible option was the elderly woman in the aisle next to him, shuffling through the bandages, but she was too far away to speak like that, and besides, how’d she know his name?

 

“Richie?” he asked shakily, hands beginning to tremble around his soda and peanuts. That voice had sounded just like… 

 

“What, Billiam?” Richie asked at Bill’s other shoulder, making the taller boy yelp and spin around, clapping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Richie gave him a look of concern and confusion, narrowing his eyes to look Bill over. 

 

“You okay?” he asked, eyes flitting from Bill’s hair to his hands holding his snacks to his feet, planted shakily in a wide stance as if he was ready to fight. “Gonna punch me again? I’d prefer if you don’t do it in the face, these glasses are on their last legs and I don’t feel like taping them up right now.”

 

“What? No - no,” Bill stammered, straightening up and swallowing. His heart was still hammering in his chest. 

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you just saw a clown,” Richie tried to joke, but stopped in his tracks once he saw the resulting haunted look on Bill’s face. 

 

“No - yes - I’ll t-t-talk to you g-g-g-g-guys on the b-b-b-b-bus,” Bill managed to get out, walking past Richie to the counter with his head down. Richie stared after him in confusion. 

 

“What the fuck just happened?” he muttered to himself, popping open his Snapple and taking a drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to highlight richie's adhd in this, because i know MY adhd ass absoultely hates being cooped up in a car during road trips, and his adhd is like. 10 times worse than mine. also!!!!!!! more suspense!!!!! (dun dun dun) i know i'm pretty much slow-burning the meeting chapter and making you all wait in agony, but i PROMISE that it's only 1-2 chapters away!!!!!! it's all good!!!1 i hope you don't hate me!!!!!!!!
> 
> also!!!!!! i made a sideblog for it/stranger things, so if you wanna follow for all my ~insider~ griping on writing this you should follow @stanntheman on tumblr!!!! (i'll follow back on bottlefullofarsenic) 
> 
> as always, feedback makes my day and fuels me to write and update faster, and i really hope that you all enjoyed it!!!!!!!!!!


	9. a pleasure to meet you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i KNOOOOWWWW that the title tricks you, but it's not the Meetup just yet. i'm sorry!!
> 
> also, i seem to have a problem for just leaving certain characters in the dark.... like bev. so here's a chapter entirely dedicated to her and her situation (plus some sweet, sweet crossover content before the big stuff happens, haha). i really focused on description bc i feel like bev is a really observant person, so sorry if you get tired of reading all that, haha. 
> 
> enjoy!!!!!

**_February 3, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. The Marsh Cabin._ **

 

Beverly nervously fiddled with the cord on her sweatshirt, watching the woods as her aunt’s wind chimes made for an eerie soundtrack for her racing thoughts. The woods outside her house were beautiful. Whenever the cabin would become too lonely and quiet, which was often, she’d go out with her bike and just walk, riding on her bike when the trail became defined enough and she let it guide her to the steep quarry, where she’d sit there on the edge and watch the water wash up against the cliffs. She couldn’t wait to bring her friends there.

 

She knew, logically, that the club wouldn’t be there until very late or even tomorrow. It was only 12 o’clock, and Bill had called in the morning (6:15, he had said) to let her know that they were leaving. Just a moment before, he had called her from New York, telling her that they were about to get on their second bus. She was so,  _ so _ excited to see them all. 

 

Even if it was all a lie.

 

Her aunt had brought her to the government facility for her weekly therapy sessions. It was cheaper through the federal system, her aunt said, and plus they had been doing wonders for the Byers boy. Why wouldn’t it work for Beverly’s problems?

 

She was about two months in when her new therapist, Mrs. Williams, pried the information about It out of her. It had been a hard session, Beverly having had a nightmare the night before, hands shaking and tears springing easily in her eyes. She could still feel  _ his _ hands brushing her tears away.

 

She hated crying. 

 

The questions changed once Beverly admitted that  _ he _ wasn’t always the main focus of her nightmares. Sometimes there was laughing. A red balloon in the corner of her eye whenever she relieved… memories. Bright lights always made it worse. The questions changed, focusing on Maine, on the newers memories, the ones getting fuzzier and fuzzier each passing day. 

 

_ You’re repressing them _ , Mrs. Williams had brought up as an explanation when Beverly tried to escape.  _ Please, tell me what you remember _ .

 

Beverly caved. The story was told. Looking back on it, she hated herself for being so weak. Despised herself. She had promised herself to never be as cowardly, as despicable as  _ he _ had been, and well. Look where that got her.

 

The officials had been brought it. It was all a big fuss. Beverly didn’t really care to remember all the big terms they used while speaking in hushed voices around her, as if she couldn’t handle all the Big Government Bullshit. All she really remembered was them telling her that they needed to speak to the boys, for her to get them to the facility in some way. Then the Byers boy was brought in for an emergency evaluation and she was let out and then a few days later it was shut down. 

 

That was in the winter. November, if she remembered correctly, and she had put the request in the back of her mind, ignored until it was only a plotline in her dreams. Come January 27, however, and a letter came in the mail with her named printed on it and big fat letters declaring  **TOP SECRET - FBI.**

 

How could she ever get her way out of that one?

 

Now the club was coming to visit her under a thinly veiled lie and every time she thought of that envelope she wanted to throw up. She thought she was done with this when  _ he _ had been taken away and she was told, promised that she’d be left alone. No more officials snooping in on every aspect of her life. 

 

Beverly got up from the rocking chair on the porch, suddenly getting the urge to go into the woods. 

 

The woods always seemed to calm her in a way that the ones in Maine didn’t, the black skeleton trees clustered so that sunlight still filtered through, unlike the thick pines in Derry, where no sun ever got through and she was left in the cold dark under the needles. Her bike chain made a slight clicking noise that mingled with the natural sounds of the forest, of unmelted snow crunching and fallen sticks snapping and frozen leaves crackling underfoot. A few minutes in and she could see where the trail became cleared, no longer uneven grass and leaves and debris, rather a thin dirt path with fresh bike tracks in the mud. 

 

Beverly smirked. The nerds were at the quarry. 

 

The group of kids - they called themselves “The Party”, and Beverly would’ve laughed if her friend group wasn’t called the Loser’s Club - were probably the highlight of her time in Indiana. They were all so different than her boys back in Maine, but they were just as ridiculous, gawking over her and trying their best to seem cool. They had backed off the last couple visits or so, only coming once every two weeks. The last time she had seen them was three weeks ago, she recalled with a frown. Wonder what had happened so that they couldn’t go down the quarry. 

 

As she quietly biked the rest of the distance, Beverly could steadily hear more and more of the group’s bickering. Dustin and Lucas were always the instigators, although Max was always soon to cut in and try to stop it, only to join in herself, Mike and Will soon following. These arguments would range from whether zoomer was  _ really _ a D&D class or not (Will had explained to Beverly the systems of classes one day, after a particularly brutal match between Mike and Max. Beverly had reflected on herself, indulging for a moment, and declared herself a Fighter. Will grinned at her and agreed) to whether or not a mysterious  _ El _ would be allowed to visit more or not. 

 

Beverly had never met this El-Sometimes-Called-Eleven, having only met Max in late December. They had become fast friends, Beverly admiring Max for her no-bullshit attitude, Max admiring Beverly for  _ still _ managing to be cooler than the rest of the Party even when Beverly assured her she was not. Max taught her to skateboard, and Beverly taught her to perfect her punching in turn. 

 

Now, they were all there, and with a new girl in tow. This new girl was huddled close to Mike as if she was attached to him, soft brown curls blowing in the wind and large overcoat dwarfing her. Beverly slowed to a stop along her usual edge of the quarry, a part where the cliffs stuck out a bit more and the ledge was sheltered by a scraggly pine that refused to leave, its roots exposed along the cliffside. Beverly sometimes climbed down the roots to an even more secluded ledge when she didn’t feel like listening to the boys of the Party argue, showing Max her hiding spot almost immediately. 

 

It was too cold to go down there now, but Beverly was perfectly content to sit under the pine and watch the group in relative peace. 

 

“Hello, Beverly!” Max called, waving. Beverly waved back, putting her thoughts in the back of her mind and swinging her legs contentedly. Every time her feet hit the cliffside, a little bit of stone and dirt drifted down to the water below. There was a little indent already from how many times she had done this. 

 

“We should ask her,” Dustin followed up after a moment, and Beverly looked up from the water to look at the boy, only to see them all watching her. It was slightly unnerving, and also gave her a bit of deja vu. 

 

“Ask me what?” Beverly called back, smiling when they startled as if she couldn’t hear the words Dustin had just said. Dustin cleared his throat nervously, looking from Will to Mike (and  _ damn _ if he didn’t remind her of Richie, the first time she saw his face she almost cried in relief of seeing him again before she realized that it wasn’t the trashmouth. Instead he was a soft-spoken boy who rather reminded her of Bill, but every time she looked at him a chill ran up her spine from the shock of similarity) before he spoke.

 

“D’you know anything about a clown named Pennywise?”

 

Beverly’s heart seemed to stop a full minute before she could feel it beating again. 

 

She clumsily got up from her sitting position, her legs shaking, almost falling before catching herself on a root and pushing herself back up. As she stalked over to the group, she threw one paranoid glance over her shoulder. She knew the facility was further away than her own cabin was from the quarry, almost three miles away, but she still worried. 

 

“How do you know about It?” she asked in a low voice once she got to where the Party was, her tone immediately making everyone sober up. The girl beside Mike looked at her curiously, taking in her coat, jeans, shoes, lingering on Bev’s short hair. 

 

“It? You mean the clown?” Will finally asked, and Beverly nodded. “Mike had a dream where the clown attacked him.”

 

“That wasn’t the main part, Will -” Mike corrected quietly, but Beverly cut him off. 

 

“How did you survive?” she said in wonder, looking over the Richie doppelganger. He looked completely fine, if not a bit pale and sleep-deprived. He looked at her in shock, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. 

 

“Survive? It was just a dream,” he replied, and Beverly shook her head in confusion, looking down at her feet. 

 

“No - no, it doesn’t matter if it’s in a dream or not. It can still hurt you,” Beverly explained, absentmindedly running a finger along the scar on her left hand. The girl watched the path of her hand, eyes widening when she saw the pale scar tissue. 

 

“It hurt you,” the girl said, the first words she had said this entire time. Six sets of eyes fixed themselves on Beverly’s hand; she stopped the movement, staring confusedly at her own hand before she knocked herself out of her thoughts. 

 

“That’s not from It,” she said in a rush, covering it up by putting her hands in her pockets. “That’s from…” She stopped in her tracks once again, frustrated. Damn her trauma for fading the memories. 

 

“This is Eleven,” Lucas steered the conversation away from the clown for a moment, seeing that both Beverly and Mike were becoming more and more agitated. Beverly looked up at Eleven, bypassing the confusion of the name to stick out her hand, right hand, and quirk one corner of her mouth up. 

 

“Beverly Marsh, a pleasure to meet you,” Beverly said shortly but not unkindly. Eleven hesitantly took the hand, shaking it once while not once breaking eye contact. It was a bit intense, but Beverly didn’t have it in her to question it. 

 

“That doesn’t explain the clown!” Dustin said after a moment, and Lucas groaned while Beverly took away her hand. The moment had been broken. 

 

“Look - I can’t explain it to you now,” Beverly said in a rush, and with an internal groan she decided. “But my friends from Maine are visiting this week. If you come here tomorrow at, say… eleven, then I’ll explain it to you with them.”

 

“Do they have something to do with this?” Max asked suspiciously, and Beverly shrugged one shoulder. 

 

“You could say that,” Beverly muttered, turning back to get her bike. She didn’t want to be at the quarry any longer. When she reached her bike, she picked it off the ground before turning over her shoulder and shouting, “Eleven tomorrow!” 

 

She felt even sicker than she had this morning when she had left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as much as i love the movie, they reaaaally didn't give bev any character downfalls. she is badass!!!! i love her because of that!!!! but i've never seen any sort of narrative, canon or fanfic, that focused on her flaws or any other traits that were shown in the movie. and every interesting character always has that sort of downside to themselves (because it makes them more human, i think). i hope you all don't hate beverly too much after this, because sometimes after years of abuse you don't always do things in the interest of others. 
> 
> also, she would totally be friends with max. there's no contest to it - they're bffs from now on. sorry, i don't make the rules. (but i do)
> 
> as always, feedback makes me update faster, and i hope you enjoyed!!!!!!


	10. Richie Tozier, at your service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im honestly proud of myself and the fact that I cranked this out in like.... a day? Two days? who knows where I'm getting this motivation from tbh. also - meeting chapter!!!!!! Finally!!!!!! I hope it fits your expectations, but if it doesn't, don't worry, I've got more. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

**_February 3, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. The Woods Outside of the Marsh Cabin._ **

 

Stan was tired, Stan was cold, and most importantly, Stan was entirely done with these  _ fucking _ woods. 

 

The last time he had seen a street sign was at least twenty minutes ago, and now the six were trudging up this damn dirt road, lugging their bags behind them, and if Stan’s suitcase caught on one more stone on the ground and made him trip he was going to scream. There wasn’t even any owls or any other wildlife to keep him entertained - the trees along the road were silent, only the moon lighting up their path. 

 

“Come on, Stan the man, lighten up! I know we’re almost there,” Richie said, slightly nudging Stan with his shoulder. The fucker had, of course, fallen asleep within ten minutes after Ben had explained why he had freaked out, head pillowed on Mike’s shoulder and feet in Eddie’s lap. He was the only one to have gotten sleep, in fact, making Stan hate him just a bit more. Now the bespectacled boy was full of energy and ready cause chaos at 12 at night. Stan was sure that he had never felt as murderous as this before.

 

“I hope,” Stan said instead of the multiple threats that echoed around his mind, keeping himself in check.  _ Someone _ had to be the rational one here.

 

“I think we have about fifteen minutes until we’re there,” Eddie offered, stifling a yawn with his right hand. 

 

That rational someone was not Stan. 

 

He stopped, letting a drawn out groan as he leaned on the closest thing, which happened to be Richie, who stumbled before letting the boy put his weight on him. The rest stopped while Stan stood there, desperately trying to gather up the dredges of strength that he didn’t even know if he had, draping himself over Richie.  _ This is payback for all the times he laid on me _ , Stan thought wryly. 

 

“I think he’s broken,” Richie offered to the myriad of confused glances sent his way, and it was only the strain in Richie’s voice that made Stan get up and begin to trudge on. 

 

“Not broken!” Richie cheered, running to catch up with Stan again as everyone else followed the thin boy. Stan rolled his eyes fondly, all previous murderous intent gone. For the most part. He ruffled Richie’s hair in response. 

 

The cabin came into sight after what seemed like half an hour, but Stan had a hidden flair for the dramatic, so it was probably just five minutes; Beverly had not been joking when she described the amount of space in the damn thing. Richie whistled lowly as the six slowly walked up the path to the almost-mansion, mouths agape in wonder. It was mostly done in brick, but the roof was a warm brown and the outside lights were outlined in the same wood. Beverly was sitting in the rocking chair in the spacious porch in front of them, rushing out in excitement once she saw them. 

 

“Stan!” she squealed, reaching him first. The force of her hug almost knocked him over, but he gathered his strength in the last second and held her for a second, suddenly so unbelievably happy to see her that he didn’t ever want to let go. 

 

He had to, though, letting go of her after a few seconds and smiling down at her. Since when had she become shorter?

 

“Hello,” was all he managed to say before she went over to Richie, giving him the same tight hug, soon hugging every member as tightly as she could (if he could see her hug both Bill and Ben longer than the others, he didn’t find it in himself to mention it) before walking backwards to her house. 

 

“Well? You all look exhausted, and it’s not like I’m dying to stay out here,” Beverly teased, and they quickly followed, Richie launching into his own hyperbolic tale of the road trip. Even though most of the time his energy was mind-numbingly tiring to keep up with, Stan did appreciate Richie’s motormouth in times like this, where no one else could think of anything else to say. 

 

The house itself seemed to be bigger on the inside, from beautiful wood fixtures to high-placed chandeliers to the most comfortable couches Stan had ever seen. Then again, he was stuck in a stuffy bus for most of the day. Anything better than the ground was appealing. 

 

“I won’t introduce you now, mostly because Aunt M is asleep, but I’ll show you guys to each of your rooms,” Beverly said quickly, enthusiasm creeping into her tone. Richie shut his mouth, not looking that miffed that she had just cut him off as she led them up the gigantic maple staircase. 

 

“This is the nicest place I’ve ever seen. I’m almost afraid to touch it,” Mike mumbled, carefully walking so that his worn boots made no impression on the pristine steps. Beverly huffed ahead of him. 

 

“Please, it’s too perfect. It deserves a little dirt.” 

 

Mike seemed to listen, but still walked precisely as to keep the dirt to a minimum. Richie, on the other hand, had no trouble in following Bev’s instructions and seemed to be on a mission to touch  _ everything _ . 

 

“Dang, Bev, how’d your aunt get this set-up? Inheritance? Wrote a couple of killer novels? Maybe an artist?  _ Oh _ , I know, dead sugar - “ Richie babbled. 

 

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie interrupted before Richie could get any further, frowning slightly. Beverly shook her head in exasperation, opening a seemingly untouched door to peek in. She nodded once before swinging the door open, flicking on a lightswitch and revealing a room with two full size beds, nicely made and cozy looking. Stan’s knees weakened just looking at them, thinking of sleep. 

 

“There are three of these up here, bathroom’s down the hall and the last door on your left,” Bev explained, leaning up against the doorway as the six boys looked in, taking in everything. This was  _ really _ just…  _ too _ nice. Stan would be suspicious if it weren’t the sleep weighing down everything in his body and mind. 

 

“I’ll be downstairs you guys need me, you look practically dead on your feet,” Beverly continued, giving them each a small hug again before scampering down the stairs and leaving them to hash out the room arrangements. 

 

It ended up with Stan and Eddie, Mike and Bill, and Richie with Ben, a fact that made him cheer triumphantly and high-five Ben before Stan shushed him. The murder was coming back as an option. 

 

“C’mon, St-sta-stan, it’s t-t-too late,” Bill yawned, leaving Stan to only shoot Richie a warning glance before slinking off to his room that he shared with Eddie. 

 

He didn’t even think about getting ready before he passed out. 

 

**_February 4, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana. The Marsh Cabin._ **

 

Morning came with a burst of sunlight suddenly coming across Stan’s face, making him groan and curl into himself. It was far too bright, too much, and at such an hour. It didn’t matter what time it was - any time was too early.

 

“Father, please, it’s too early,” he echoed in a groan, covering his face with a hand as he burrowed deeper into his pillows. They were much stiffer than they usually were, and Stan frowned minutely at the unfamiliarity.

 

“I’m not your father. If I were, that would both be physically impossible and uncomfortable,” a voice spoke up, decidedly female and  _ not _ of a middle-aged rabbi. The memories came back from the day before, numerous and almost overwhelming, and Stan groaned again, this time not from sleepiness. 

 

Beverly was leaning over Stan with a wicked grin, her fiery hair lighting up with the sunlight and blue eyes sparkling. Stan looked past her to Eddie’s bed, where the small boy seemed to have been woken up in a similar fashion, face creased and in a sleep-worn frown. 

 

“I’ve never seen you fall asleep in your day clothes before. You must’ve been really tired last night,” Beverly continued, leaning back as to let the light shine onto Stan’s tired face. He was blinded for a good five seconds, cursing as he scrambled up to get out of the line of fire. Both Beverly and Eddie were kind enough to not laugh at him as he annoyedly wiped at his eyes and tried to straighten up his wrinkled clothes, his hair no doubt a curly mess. 

 

“It’s 10 o’clock, and I’m gonna show you guys around at 11,” Beverly said instead, directing the statement at Eddie as well as Stan, “Make sure to be presentable by then, okay? Aunt M’s downstairs and she made bacon.”

 

“I can’t eat bacon,” Stan said belatedly, the words falling flat as Beverly had already left and he could hear her open up the door to the room that Bill and Mike were sharing. 

 

“I’d try to get in the shower right now, she hasn’t woken up Richie yet and he takes almost hour long showers,” Eddie advised, cutting across Stan’s contemplation of whether or not he had time to get back to sleep and get ready. Stan snorted, getting up from his position on the bed and opening up his suitcase for his outfit of the day. 

 

“Of course he does,” Stan muttered, quickly walking out the door to get in the shower first. What a Richie thing to do. 

 

The shower was refreshing, if not a bit awkward; Stan had no idea what to do with all the excess space, keeping to one corner of the shower and warily watching the door in case anyone tried to come in. No one did, thankfully, and he did his full routine with no intrusions or messups. 

 

The kitchen downstairs was immense, in proportion to everything else in the house, with a middle-aged woman leaning on the counter by the stove, face buried in a book. Stan wasn't sure he’d have believed it was Beverly’s aunt if it weren't for the identical red hair, except longer and tied back and streaked with a bit of grey. 

 

Stan politely cleared his throat, and the woman looked up from her book, smiling when she saw Stan. 

 

“Hello!” she said cheerfully, and Stan waved in return. 

 

“I'm Stan,” he said, making his way over to the round kitchen table. “One of Bev’s friends?” He internally hit himself for saying that; who else would he be? Some random teenage boy just happening to stay in her house at the same time as her niece’s friends?

 

“Of course. I'm Molly, but you can call me Aunt M,” Aunt M replied, sweetly smiling. She seemed to remember something after a moment, mouth parting in an ‘o’.

 

“Beverly’s mentioned that you’re kosher,” Aunt M continued, and Stan cocked his head to the side, a little flattered and a little confused. He watched as she walked over to the stove, grabbing a plate and putting some food on it before returning. 

 

“I know there’s not a lot there, but I made some hashbrowns and pancakes for you to eat,” she explained. Stan’s heart swelled a bit. Only a few people would make the accommodation for him. 

 

“What’s up! I'm Richie Tozier, at your service,” a loud, familiar voice interrupted from Stan replying, coming from the bottom of the stairs a few feet away. Stan rolled his eyes as he sat down, perfect timing, as usual. 

 

**_10:46, The Woods Outside of the Marsh Cabin._ **

 

“My aunt may have money, but she doesn't use it to buy bikes for six children, so we’re going to have to walk,” Beverly announced as soon as the group got outside. There was one lone bike leaning against the railing of the porch, but Beverly ignored it and quickly marched down the stairs. She seemed to change for a split second, quickly checking over her shoulder with a scared look before turning back to the boys, smile back on her face. Stan narrowed his eyes. Something was up. 

 

“I'm gonna show you around the woods for a bit, give you the way to the quarry that I mentioned,” She announced, clapping her hands together and wringing them nervously. No one except Stan seemed to notice the movement, instead shrugging in agreement or excitedly exclaiming “HELL YES” in the case of Richie. 

 

“How long is it going to be?” Eddie anxiously asked, and Stan snorted, forgetting a moment about Bev’s strange behavior. The small boy seemed to have tapped into Stan’s thoughts exactly. 

 

Beverly laughed. “Not as long as it is to town, I promise. When we visit later my aunt will drive us.” 

 

“That would've been nice,” Mike intoned quietly. 

 

Beverly set off after her statement, seeming to not hear Mike’s comment and stepping into the woods. Bill and Ben rushed to follow her, everyone else behind them. Stan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How obvious could they be?

 

The woods were much more active than they had been last night, birds flitting between dark skeleton trees and the slight breeze that made Stan shiver making the branches clack against each other. He quietly watched as one bird, a tiny yellow finch, flew over his head to it's nest in a distant aspen tree. 

 

Richie’s voice seemed to echo throughout the woods obnoxiously, his laughter especially piercing. Stan drew his attention back to the head of the group, where Richie had one loose arm wrapped around Beverly’s shoulders, face set in a lazy smile. Bill, Ben and Eddie were behind the two, and Stan stifled a cough of laughter at the heat in all of their stares. 

 

“They do realise that Richie has no feelings for Bev, right?” Stan leaned over and whispered to Mike, who had been quietly observing just as Stan had been. Mike smiled as he watched.

 

“It’s cute,” Mike responded, his face softening as he looked at the bunch. “Though I'm not sure if Richie has any idea about Eddie.” 

 

“Oblivious shits,” Stan muttered, though there was no heat behind his words. 

 

The rest of the trip was passed fairly easily, sleep and the sunlight greatly improving Stan’s views of the woods. After a few minutes Stan could see the trees thinning, the trail underfoot turning more gravelly and rocky rather than filled with grass and half-melted snow. Beverly seemed to get excited, unlooping Richie’s arm from her shoulder and walking faster. Stan had to run a bit to catch up, Mike and Eddie by his side. 

 

They exited the trees in a huff, Stan breathing a bit hard from the exertion. Winter always guaranteed to take him out of shape. 

 

The quarry itself was enormous, just like everything else in Hawkins so far - Richie precariously leaned over the edge, making Stan’s fingers itch to grab the back of his shirt just to make sure he didn't kill himself by falling. 

 

“Jesus! That's one steep dive,” Richie whistled, Eddie lessening some of the anxiety by grabbing Richie’s shoulder. “You were right, Beverly, this would definitely kill me.” 

 

“Get away from the edge, you idiot,” Eddie snapped, dragging Richie back with a strength Stan didn't know that the boy had possessed. Richie held up his hands. 

 

“Okay, okay, geez. I wasn't gonna jump, Eds, I'm not stupid,” Richie responded, cracking what he surely thought was a reassuring smile but more came out as a cocky grin.

 

“P-p-pre-previous experience disp-proves that, Rich,” Bill offered, but his voice was drowned out by new voices. Stan turned to the right, searching the line of trees for the source of the sound. Behind him, Beverly made a small sound that sounded like a relieved sigh. The suspicion flooded back into Stan’s system.

 

“Dustin, I swear to god, if you don’t give up that stupid Three Musketeers bribe, I'm going to kill you,” a strangely familiar voice snapped, just as a black-haired boy stepped out from the woods. Richie seemed to choke on his own spit for a second, his eyes wide as he looked at the boy. Stan followed his gaze, and soon realized why. 

 

The newcomer shared Richie's face to a T - even further than that, his stature, height, voice,  _ everything _ . He froze when he turned around and saw the Losers, eyes going from Stan, to Bill, to Eddie, and finally staying on Richie. 

 

“Mike? Why are you stopped?” a concerned voice came from behind the boy, peeking up from behind his shoulder. It was a small boy, possibly even smaller than Eddie, with a long bowl cut, large brown eyes, and too-large clothes on his frame. His eyes widened further. “Oh.” 

 

“You-you're the one I heard,” Richie stammered first, unfreezing to walk forward a few steps. Stan had never seen Richie as agitated as he was now, his hands shaking and eyes blown wide behind his fishbowl glasses. 

 

“You're the one in my dream,” the doppelganger, Mike, replied. He seemed just as freaked out, but stepped forward to let his friends come out of the forest. “And, and, you're Eddie, you're Bill, and you're Stan.” 

 

He pointed directly at Eddie, who seemed to jump out of his skin in fear, following to point at both Bill and Stan. Stan looked frantically back at Bill, then Ben, following with Mike and Beverly. They all looked just as spooked as he felt, looking at each other with wide eyes.

 

“How d-did you kn-kn-know that?” Bill spoke first, ever the rational one, stepping forward and frowning in confusion. 

 

“I had a dream a few days ago,” Mike explained, Stan shivering when Richie’s voice came out in such a soft, gentle way. It seemed unnatural. “You guys were in it, but….” 

 

Richie walked a few steps forward with the hesitation, so that the two were almost nose to nose. He squinted at Mike, who looked slightly affronted, and reached out to pinch his cheeks. Mike jerked back, face turning pink from something other than the harsh contact. 

 

“What the hell?” Mike snapped, and the curly haired girl that was watching closely behind him stepped forward, glowering dangerously at Richie. 

 

“Let him finish what he was saying, Rich,” Stan said warningly, and Richie looked back to him, a moment of understanding passing before he stepped back. 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just making sure you were real.” Mike continued to glare at him, and the girl behind him didn't back down until the small boy grabbed her hand, making her look at him and finally take a step back. 

 

“I saw - encountered a clown in my dream. It… it called itself Pennywise. It didn't kill me, but it mentioned a mister, said it wanted me alive,” Mike continued after looking behind Stan to somewhere behind him. Stan didn't care enough to look.

 

It was as if he had dropped a bomb, the Losers realizing the scale of the problem.

 

“We killed it! YOU SAID WE KILLED IT!” Eddie cried out almost immediately, backing frantically into Bill, who seemed almost catatonic in shock, dazedly grabbing Eddie’s elbows to keep him from pushing the boy over. 

 

Mike and Ben exchanged a terrified glance, immediately taking a step closer to each other, Mike taking one glance behind him as if the clown was behind him and ready to strike. Stan himself had frozen again, this time with his arms and legs instantly turning numb, thoughts running through his mind at a thousand miles an hour, images of a woman with a crooked face leering at him threateningly, the sharp pain of rows upon rows of teeth sinking into his face, his friends leaving him to be eaten - 

 

“Stan,” a voice said in his ear, and he realized that he’d backed up a good amount, his whole body trembling from head to foot, Beverly looking in concern at him. 

 

The Loser's reactions had all happened within the span of five seconds, the other kids looking on in horrified confusion. Bill had come to hold Eddie securely against himself, the smaller boy hyperventilating with tears streaking down his face. Stan forced himself to step forward again, his legs still completely numb. 

 

“You didn't mention the mister part,” Beverly continued, frowning at the other group. The familiar feeling of suspicion mixed with the numb-numbing fear flooding his system, the pieces falling together as Stan slowly turned to face Beverly. 

 

“You set us up,” Stan said slowly, realization diffusing into his voice. Beverly turned to look at him, confusion becoming clearer on her face. The realization came with blinding anger, so immensely hot and destructive that the shaking from the fear combined with the trembling of anger. 

 

“What are you ta-talking about?” Bill spoke for the first time, everyone looking from Bill, to Stan, to Beverly, and back again. Stan felt as if he were dying. 

 

“She set us up. She - She  _ knew _ about it, she knew that it was back, she tricked us,” Stan stammered, turning back to Beverly.

 

“Stan, that's not true,” Beverly tried to defend, but her guilty face gave it away. Stan backed up again, looking across everyone’s face. The Losers were in various states of shock and terror, Eddie’s face streaked with tears, Richie’s a mask of stone. The other kids seemed extremely confused. 

 

“I - I can’t -” Stan choked out before he turned heel and ran, the feeling of Pennywise’s teeth sinking into his face playing over and over again in his mind. 

  
He’d rather kill himself than let that  _ thing _ kill him, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to keep canon in here somehow, ya know??? I wouldn't worry too much. I won't pull a Stephen King on you yet. 
> 
> (yet)
> 
> I tried to keep their reactions as accurate as possible - these kids were almost killed by this thing, I don't think they'd be entirely okay knowing that they didn't kill it. Also, I know none of the Losers know the Party yet, but it's gonna happen!!!! It's all gonna work out, I promise.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and as always, feedback keeps me writing!!!!!!!


	11. legally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter killed me, just because i REALLY want to go and visit stan's situation... but not yet!!!!!! i gotta explain more here!!!! i'm sorry if anything seems a bit forced. also, sorry for that sort-of cliffhanger back there. i'm not really an angst person, but hey, these two groups are the designated Angst Parties, and we all have to do our fair share of torturing them. btw, definite set posting plan now!!! hopefully every tuesday and friday, if i haven't posted already during that week. that means that come friday, NEW CHAPTER!!!! it'll give me more time to edit between posting, and get everything together in between.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!!!

**_The Quarry._ **

 

Richie seemed to be observing from a point outside of his body, like his life was currently just a shitty special on some fucked up television show. He distantly watched as Stan bolted, his entire body seeming to be shaking, his face completely white and seeming ready to collapse and any second. He could only partially hear Beverly desperately calling out to the boy, shrugging both Ben and Mike off before following him. 

 

After a few moments of quiet spectating, looking from a panicking Eddie and Bill to a less panicking Mike and Ben, Richie faintly felt a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly and violently he seemed to be catapulted back into his body, making him physically step back and take in a deep breath, his chest aching. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath the entire time. He turned slightly to face a worried looking Mike, eyes going from Richie to the group behind him that seemed to all dissolve into fear within a second. 

 

“Is it really that bad?” he asked after a moment, and Richie resisted the urge to laugh at the naivety of his lookalike’s question. It wasn’t like he had any idea of the scale of the damage that  _ thing _ had done to them. Richie was never really attacked by the clown - at least, not to the extent of Stan, or Beverly, or Bill. He still remembered the sickeningly satisfying way the baseball bat cracked across that fucker’s face, sending the shapeshifter reeling back. 

 

“It’s bad.” Richie said instead, lacking the vocabulary to describe the extent of the terror. He noticed that all the rest of Mike’s gang seemed to be intensely concerned over the actions of the Losers, especially the small boy that reminded him of Eddie. 

 

Eddie. 

 

Richie whirled back to see that Bill had managed to calm Eddie down so that he was no longer hyperventilating, but tears were still oozing out of his eyes, dazedly looking in the direction that Stan and Beverly had run. Bill still had his arms wrapped protectively around Eddie’s shoulders and torso, holding the boy tightly across his chest. Mike and Ben seemed in a similar daze, the adrenaline slowly fading to anxiety and concern over the two that had run from the scene. 

 

“Why did he run?” a small voice asked from the other side, and Richie turned to look at the source of the question. It was the same curly-haired girl that had glared at him when he had pinched Mike’s face, but there was no hostility in her expression now, just confusion and a dusting of concern. Richie cleared his throat, looking down as he remembered the image of that devilish bitch with her mouth around Stan’s face, almost ready to devour him whole. Honestly, looking back now, Richie couldn’t blame him for running. 

 

“The clown that Mike saw… it, uh, it tried to eat him. A while ago, but that stuff kind of sticks, y’know,” Richie tried to explain. The girl’s eyes grew wide, as did the other five’s. Mike looked a bit sick. “Honestly, Mikey-boy, you’re lucky that you got away intact.” 

 

“Don’t call me that,” Mike responded, frowning a bit. 

 

“I’m wondering why It didn’t attack him,” Ben piped up from behind Richie, and Mike behind him nodded solemnly. 

 

“Pennywise wouldn’t give up an opportunity like that, especially when Mike couldn’t do anything to defend himself,” Mike continued. Richie furrowed his eyebrows together, thinking. Mike was right. Although the thing did like to taunt, it also liked to eat. It would’ve torn his doppelganger to shreds. 

 

“Di-didn’t you m-m-men-mention a mist-mister?” Bill spoke for the first time since Mike had dropped the bomb of Pennywise, his stutter worse but still managing to have a steady tone. The boy in the red, white and blue hat nodded from behind Richie’s lookalike. 

 

“He said… Mister told him to keep us, keep us til later to float,” Mike informed them, and Richie shuddered. 

 

“Something else is going on here,” he muttered. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t in the entity’s nature to keep its victims alive just for the novelty of it. He didn’t miss the guilty look shared between the kids behind his doppelganger - he squinted his eyes at them, an idea quickly forming in his head. 

 

“I’ve realized we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. I’m Richie Tozier,” Richie abruptly changed the subject, the swiftness not lost on the Losers behind him. Eddie opened his mouth to question him; Richie winked quickly, making a small “shh” motion. Turning grandly around, he offered a hand to Mike, who looked lost.

 

“Wha… Mike Wheeler,” he returned, hesitantly shaking Richie’s hand, his face set in an almost permanent expression of confusion. The moment their hands touched, it was as if Richie had been electrocuted; a strange shock ran up his arm and to his chest, making him step back from the force. He knew that Mike felt it, too, by the change in his face and way his face paled when he looked back at Richie. Richie cleared his throat and put the strange sensation at the back of his mind, looking to others behind Mike. 

 

“And you?” Richie asked, pasting on his signature crooked smile. He hoped his plan worked, as he watched the others shift before the boy with the hat spoke up. 

 

“Dustin Henderson. I don’t know what this has to do with anything,” he announced, and the girl beside him elbowed him. He hissed in pain. “What? I don’t!”

 

The girl rolled her eyes before responding to Richie. “Max Mayfield. Ignore him.” 

 

Max reminded Richie of Beverly, before she had cut off all her hair, and especially in the way she held herself - fearlessly, not letting anything show. Richie felt the corners of his mouth quirk up in a real smile. 

 

“Lucas Sinclair. I’m with Dustin on this one,” the boy next to Max said next, a camouflage bandana tied on his head and eyes squinting suspiciously at Richie. Max rolled her eyes again, muttering something about trust before looking down at the ground. 

 

“Jane. Hopper,” the curly haired girl announced from behind Mike, voice surprisingly soft for someone who looked ready to deck Richie a second again. There was still that strange power that seemed to thrum beneath her skin, coming out in every action from the way her head tilted to the way she protectively stepped forward to Mike when Richie had pinched his cheeks. Richie had the assumption that she would do some good to kick Pennywise’s ass. 

 

Richie turned to the last of Mike’s gang, the small boy with the bowlcut. He looked vaguely familiar, as if Richie had seen him on the TV or something. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

 

“Will Byers,” he said hesitantly, looking from Richie to Mike and then back again. The name clicked after a split second - Richie snapped his fingers in triumph.

 

“Byers! I know that name,” he repeated. Bingo. Will gave Mike a panicked glance, and Richie’s lookalike returned it fully. “Didn’t you disappear and then come back from virtually the dead a year or two ago? What was the deal with  _ that _ ?” 

 

“I don’t know how this has anything to do with the clown,” Dustin repeated, this time with a warning tone in his voice as he stepped protectively over to Will. Richie held his hands up, glancing over to the Losers. They still looked lost, but Ben seemed to be putting pieces together in his head. Richie internally begged him to  _ figure it out already, won’t’chya? _

 

“Weeeeell, if you were to have any information that, I don’t know, could help us…?” Richie intentionally drew out, and to his chagrin Mike seemed to figure it out at the exact same time Ben did. 

 

“We can’t tell you,” he responded, and had the audacity to look ashamed. “We’d love to, really… but we can’t. Legally.” 

 

“Legally,” Eddie repeated dully from behind Richie. The shock seemed to have completely worn off, replaced by tired resignation. 

 

“The lab isn’t in use anymore, Mike,” Lucas seemed to reason, although it looked like it pained him. “Technically, they can’t do anything to us if we told. Hell, we already told Max.”

 

“Max is different,” Mike snapped, but seemed to be thinking. Richie threw a glance back at the Losers again; this time, Eddie was looking intently at Mike, as if he were trying to influence him into a decision, and Bill had released the boy, instead looking off into the trees where Stan and Beverly had run off. Another idea popped into Richie’s head and he almost gave himself a high-five.  _ Damn _ , despite whatever Bill or Eddie or whoever said, sometimes he had great ideas. 

 

“We shouldn’t be standing here, anyway,” Richie interrupted, and Mike looked at him with a thoughtful scowl. “Bev’s cabin in a little ways back. There, we can talk and see if those two are back. If they aren’t we can wait for them there, too.”

 

Richie held his breath as Mike seemed to think about it, throwing a glance back to his friends behind him. After a tense moment, his expression softened, and he turned back to Richie. 

 

“Okay. We’ll go back.”

 

Richie held in the urge to cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes deep breath* thisisgenthisisgenthisisgen THERE IS NO SHIPPING IN THIS!!!!!!! sorry, just had to remind myself before i shoehorn in my multitude of rarepairs and make it a shipfic as well as an angstfest. (maybe some other story.... but not this one.) if anything turns too shippy in here (other than like. mileven and lumax and reddie bc those are all [practically] canon) yell @ me. agggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! the temptation is overwhelming :,,,,,( 
> 
> and more plot is happening.... lalalala..... it's moving now folks!!!! we're finding out stuff!!!! like what the heck is going on with stan?? why is pennywise doing what it's doing??? what's the deal with mike and richie? i don't know!!! ;)
> 
> i hope you guys liked this chapter, and as always, feedback is SOOOOO appreciated, it keeps me writing!!!!


	12. cowards together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter kicked my ASS because of how feelsy it is... I don't do emotion!!!!! I don't do crying!!!! This has both!!!! Three cheers for writing, honestly, it's making me discuss things that i suppress deep inside of me.
> 
> also, reuploading this bc it wasn't showing up on the listings?? Let's see if this one shows up >:(
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!!!

**_Somewhere in the Hawkins Woods._ **

 

Stan had always been aware of the fact that he was a coward. 

 

It had always been in the back of his mind as a kid, watching on the sidelines as his friends did things that he was too scared to do, too scared to mess up his perfect routine that he had set up for the rest of his life. As he grew older and the routine modified to fit his age, he realized more and more the cowardice the routine produced. He’d be the one sitting on the edge while Richie would ask out that girl, or Eddie would try out a new medicine, or Bill would do crazy things like jump off the quarry edge first or try to do stunts on Silver. 

 

Stan was the oldest, but sometimes he felt like the baby of the group.

 

Thing is, whenever he’d try to get outside of his comfort zone, try to do something outside of the routine, it was as if his body seemed to cave in on itself. The initial rush would wear off, and suddenly the debilitating anxiety would take over. His hands would shake, his mouth would dry, his mind would fill up with all of the possible disasters and consequences and oh my  _ god _ \- 

 

More often than not, whenever something came up in Stan’s life that disrupted the routine, it would always end up in a panic attack and a panic attack always led to him running. 

 

This was one hell of a something. 

 

Eventually, Stan’s stamina ran out before his panic did, leaving him to lean against a enormous, gnarled maple tree, panting as his thoughts still ran at an unfathomable speed. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't let himself cry, didn't let himself show the emotion running rampant through his body. A silent sob made his shoulders shudder. It just wasn’t  _ fair _ . 

 

Faintly, as an almost unconscious action, Stan let his hands drift up to trace the circular scars that lined his face, some still slightly pink and healing. They would never fully go away, the teeth sinking much too deep to let Stan forget it. He thought of the hole in his chest that had opened up as the woman had her jaws clamped around his face, eyes blurry from tears and blood, unwillingly accepting his fate as the teeth scraped against bone. He gasped, leaning his full weight on the tree as the anxiety surged back. 

 

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it,” he whimpered to himself, slumping down so that he was sat fully on the damp ground. Something in him recoiled, screaming at him to get up get up get up GET UP. He couldn't physically obey. 

 

Another sob wracked his body, making him wrap his arms around himself and bury his face into his knees. As he held himself there, desperately fighting back tears, he heard someone calling. 

 

“Stan! Stanley, please!” 

 

They sounded just as desperate as he felt. Distantly, he recognized it as Beverly. He couldn't bring himself to feel angry at her then. 

 

“Here,” he croaked out, wincing at the pain apparent in his voice. He bit his lip in order to stop the surge of tears. 

 

“Stan?!” she called again, this time closer. He could see her fiery hair through the trees and bushes. 

 

“He-here,” he responded again, interrupted by a sob that had been released from his throat. Her head whipped around, and she saw his sorry form curled up beneath the maple tree.  _ God _ , he was such a fucking  _ waste _ .

 

“Oh, Stan,” she whispered, sounding close to tears herself. He hid his face as she neared him, shoulders still shaking as he felt her crouch down in front of him. 

 

“I'm sorry, Stan,” she continued, voice soft and entirely too guilty. Stan looked up slightly, blurred eyes finding her own blue ones. She looked so sad. “I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Stan surged forward into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her ribcage as he buried his face in her shoulder, letting himself finally cry. She curled her arms around his back almost immediately, splaying her hands on his trembling shoulders and back. He could feel her own tears dripping down into his neck, her chest shuddering as she cried with him. He felt horrible.

 

“I - can’t - I can’t - face it -” he gasped, screwing up his face and gripping her tighter as if she were about to disappear. “I’m too - too f-f- _ fucking _ scared. I'm such a  _ fucking  _ coward.” 

 

“I don't think you’re a coward, Stan,” Beverly whispered back, sniffling slightly. Stan choked out a sob, shaking his head. 

 

“No, no, no, I am,” he whined, immediately wincing at how childish he sounded. “I ran, I thought about - about,  _ killing myself  _ before it could get to me -” 

 

Beverly pulled him away at that, eyes wide and face in a shocked expression. He couldn’t meet her gaze, staring instead at a leaf blowing past them in shame. She moved back; he panicked, grabbing her arm in the thought she was leaving before he realized she was just sitting in a more comfortable position. He blushed slightly, ducking his head in embarrassment and releasing her arm. Now that the rush had faded, he reprimanded himself for being so immature. He had gone to her like a frightened child to its mother. 

 

“I’m glad you didn't go through with it,” was all she mumbled before she grabbed  _ his _ arm, pulling him forward until he was practically in her lap, wrapping her arms around his waist again. His face heated up, but reciprocated, settling on his knees as to keep the position. He still felt miserable, but his head was clearer. He sniffed a bit, grimacing at the sound it made. 

 

They sat there for a moment, Beverly placing her forehead on his shoulder as if to hide. After a slow second, she spoke. 

 

“I told my therapist about it,” she whispered. He moved his head slightly to look down at her; she curled further into him, as if to hide in shame. “I didn’t know she’d tell. She said -  _ they _ said that everything I said was confidential.” 

 

“Beverly - “ Stan tried to say. He realized why she was doing this. His words floated back to him,  _ You set us up _ . She shook her head, lifting it and moving back a fraction of an inch, still not looking him in the eye. 

 

“They told me they wanted me to bring you guys here. I didn’t want to, but they made me promise. Then… then the facility closed, and I thought it was done. I forgot about it for a while. That was a few months ago,” she continued, voice low, determined to explain herself. Stan kept quiet. “A couple weeks ago… I got a letter.”

 

“From who?” Stan asked in a soft voice, searching her face. She nervously bit her lip, glancing at him for a split second before continuing to burn a hole in the tree behind them. 

 

“They tricked me. I thought… it said FBI on the outside. And, and when I opened it, it was from the Hawkins Laboratory. It was pretty much blackmail. They…” she swallowed then, tears swimming in her eyes again. She took a deep shuddering breath, moving her arm when Stan reached out to grab it. He moved his hand back, understanding that she needed to get it out. 

 

“They threatened me, told me they would bring me back to my dad, if I didn't bring you guys here. How could I ever say no to that?” A tear trailed down her cheek as she frustratedly stared at the tree, and she finally looked him in the eye after a moment. “I don’t think I’ll ever consider you a coward, Stan. Not when I did something like that.”

 

“You didn’t have a choice. Bev…” Stan trailed off. “It’s not your fault. I'm sorry that I accused you, and… was just generally terrible. I should've learned when Bowers spread those rumors about you.” 

 

Bev sniffled, then smiled tearfully. “I guess we’ll be cowards together, then.”

 

She broke then, and Stan silently wrapped his arms around her again, letting her put her head on his shoulder again as she cried. 

 

“We- We need to go back- to the quarry,” she gasped between sobs, and Stan frowned down at her slightly. 

  
“In a little bit. I think they can wait,” he murmured. For the first time, he didn't feel panicked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, with tears running down my face: why can't I control myself
> 
> Honestly, I did NOT mean to put so much steverly subtext in here, it just sort of.... happened??? this isn't going to become shippy, I swear. This chapter just made it all come out. 
> 
> also - confessions!!! understanding!!! Stan isn't mad at Beverly!!! Something is resolved, lol. 
> 
> I hope this chapter made you feel emotion, and as always, feedback keeps me writing!!!!


	13. they love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus, i am SO SORRY for the delay with this. my finals are steadily coming up (after next week :,,,,,O), and this week was preparation for my state's theatre conference which was this weekend and i JUST got back from it so... i've been busy!!!! but i hope this chapter makes up for it, it's not very long, but i hope it's enough to satisfy you guys!!!! 
> 
> also, every one is here, almost everyone is introduced, and explanations are coming up!!!! this time from will's POV, he just comes off as so quiet and slightly spacey, except observant??? idk, he's just so sensitive and i tried to capture that in this. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!!!!

**_The Marsh Cabin._ **

 

“Hello? Miss Marsh? Aunt M?” Richie yelled out as soon as they hit the porch of the cabin, swinging the door open with a bang and making the tall boy with the stutter wince. Will stood back a bit, eyes widening at the sheer size of the place. A better name for it would be  _ palace _ , he thought in the back of his head. “I guess she’s not here right now. Come in, come in!”

 

He startled when Max brushed past him, giving him a slight smile as she followed the others up the steps. Will hurried after her, quickly looking behind him and trying not deflate when the two that had run weren’t behind him. He had run more times than he could count. He understood. 

 

The inside of the cabin was even more magnificent, chandeliers and comfortable furniture and the occasional taxidermied head on the wall. Will had only ever seen places like this on the TV, or maybe in his books back when he was little. Certainly not in Hawkins. He had never known someone here was rich enough to own a place like this. 

 

Another small nudge from Max brought him back to Earth, back to the bickering that was going on between Richie and his friend, the one what had been held by the stuttering one for a while. Will got the impression that he had a very strong love-hate relationship with Richie. 

 

“Richie, I swear, the living room is  _ over there _ , I saw it when I came downstairs this morning!” the boy yelled, pointing furiously to the left. Richie considered for a bit, squinting in the same exact way that Mike did whenever Dustin did something stupid or he was trying to think of the perfect something to fit into one of his stories. It really was strange, the way they looked exactly alike. 

 

“No, no, Eddie. I  _ swear _ that it was over by the kitchen. Bill, don’t you think so?” 

 

Oh, right, those were their names. Will had honestly forgotten them in the rush of the past few days. Eddie was the shorter one, Bill the stuttering one who was currently shrugging, clearly determined to stay out of the rising conflict. 

 

“I c-c--can’t say for s-sh-sh-sure, Rich. S-sorry,” he replied, genuinely looking remorseful for being unable to help. The shorter, chubbier kid behind him exasperatingly rubbed his forehead as Richie and Eddie started up again. 

 

“And you say Dustin and I’s arguments are bad,” Lucas muttered to Mike, who rolled his eyes. 

 

“They are. You had a forty-five minute argument yesterday over whether Han Solo really deserves Leia or not,” Mike hissed back. As if on command, Dustin turned to the freckled boy. 

 

“He was  _ frozen _ for her,” he said adamantly. Mike groaned loudly. 

 

“Forget I ever said anything,” he snapped, just as Richie said the exact same thing in the same exact tone. It went dead silent then, both boys turning to warily watching each other. A heavy moment passed before the black boy beside Richie cleared his throat, speaking quietly. 

 

“The living room’s over here. There’s enough space for all of us,” he said softly, and started walking to the left. 

 

Will could see that Eddie did a little fistbump with the chubby kid as they walked over to the doorway, and that Richie huffed and immediately brought his hand up to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail nervously. Another trait that he and Mike shared, then - Will looked to the side, and sure enough, Mike had his left hand to his own mouth, absentmindedly chewing into his index fingernail. Eleven seemed to make the connection as well, looking between the two with a small frown, before looking at Will. Will raised an eyebrow. Interesting.

 

Saying that the living room had enough space for all of them was an understatement. The living room seemed to fill up most of the downstairs space, not enough people to fill up the luxurious couch and armchairs all centered around the fireplace. The space was colder than the rest of the house, thanks to the size and the fact that no one had been in it for a while. Will shivered and looked over his shoulder again, shifting slightly closer to Max and Eleven to the left. 

 

_ He likes it cold. _

 

Will shook himself, forcing the words out of his mind. The gate was closed. The Mind Flayer couldn’t get to him anymore. He was okay. 

 

He jumped slightly as Eleven grabbed his hand, looking at him in concern. It was then that he realized that all the others had sat down, and they were the only two standing - blushing slightly in embarrassment, he hurried to sit beside Dustin in one of the oversized armchairs. Mike watched him as he did so, worry bright in his eyes; Will gave him a tiny smile in reassurance. Nothing was happening. All this clown nonsense was getting to him, that’s all. 

 

“Now! Let’s get down to it. Let’s  _ tawk _ ,” Richie clapped his hands, adopting a silly accent reminiscent of Will’s grandmother who sometimes visited from Boston. He stifled a snicker, clearing his throat slightly to cover the noise. Mike, on the other hand, didn’t seem enthused. He simply glared at Richie through narrowed eyes, stubbornly staying silent. 

 

“Okay, I’ll say the thing that I’m pretty sure is going through all of our minds,” Dustin said instead, leading everyone to look at him. Will keep his gaze fixed on Dustin’s shoe beside him, slightly torn at the edges and the bottoms dingy with mud and day-to-day life. “What the hell is going on with you two?”

 

“Not what I was meaning by talk,” Richie responded, his voice pleasant but clearly annoyed, “But sure! I’ll start. I have no fucking idea.”

 

“That’s helpful,” Lucas snipped, rolling his eyes. Mike rolled his eyes at Lucas, shifting a bit. 

 

“My mom would’ve mentioned a cousin or  _ something _ in Maine,” Mike chimed in, aiming the ‘something’ directly at Richie, who smiled, “But nothing. She’s only talked about my aunts and uncles in Colorado.”

 

“Mother and Father dearest don’t really have time between sipping from bottles to talk about family, so I can’t contribute,” Richie said breezily, placing his chin on his hand. Mike looked at him for a split second with something resembling concern and sympathy before returning to his scowl.

 

“I heard something where you have seven people around the world that look exactly like you throughout your lifetime,” Max piped up, and both Mike and Richie turned their heads to look at her, identical expressions of intrigue and slight disbelief on their faces. 

 

“Yeah, but aren’t the chances of you meeting them like… one in a billion?” Dustin asked, and Max shrugged. 

 

“Something like that. I don’t know, I just thought it would be - “

 

Max cut herself off as she looked at a spot behind Will; the others around her looked in the same spot, Richie squinting in disbelief and slight relief. 

 

Will turned around to see Stan and Beverly, both looking like deer in the headlights, sheepishly returning the twelve gazes fixated on them. Will didn’t fail to notice the barely-dried tear tracks down both of their cheeks, the way they shuffled closer together, the way Stan’s hands shook minutely and the way Beverly seemed to puff herself up in preparation. 

 

“Where the  _ hell _ did you two run off to?” 

 

Richie’s voice came out tight and annoyed, but Will could hear the barely-hidden worry and fear in his tone. 

 

“You about gave us a heart attack. We’re all scared now, it didn’t help that you ran off,” Eddie spat, and there was fear and concern there, too, but less. He was more angry. Stan flinched, and Beverly scowled at the two. 

 

“C-c-come on, guys,” Bill muttered to Richie and Eddie. “It do-do-do-doesn’t hel-help anything.” 

 

“It helps to know where they were! You guys should know better than to run, I was terrified that -- ” Richie rebutted, stopping himself sharply as his volume and pitch rose as he talked, almost revealing something he didn’t want out. 

 

Heavy silence followed, the Party uncomfortable, before the black boy beside Bill spoke up again. 

 

“Richie, yelling at them won’t make them talk. We should just all sit and talk it out. About everything,” he reasoned, looking to Dustin again when he said the last statement.

 

Stan quickly took the hint, walking swiftly over to the vacant spot on Will’s left, head down and hands still shaking. Will watched him carefully as Beverly moved from the corner of his vision, chin up defiantly and taking a seat beside Max. 

 

“I wouldn’t worry about them being angry at you,” Will said lowly to Stan beside him, who hesitantly returned his soft gaze, searching his face. Will tried for a reassuring smile, internally cheering when Stan shakily reciprocated.  “I know they love you. They yell at you because of that.”

 

Stan laughed softly then, quickly swiping at his eyes and straightening up, sniffling. Will looked over him for a split second more before looking out to Mike and Richie, who were warily watching each other while Bill quietly talked with the boy beside him. The similarities in personality and behavior were strange. Will didn’t know of any theory that would explain it. 

 

“Alright,” Bill cut across his thoughts, and Will looked away from the two doppelgangers to watch the taller boy, taking a moment to look at the boy beside him before continuing. “What d-do you wa-wan-want to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, it makes me so mad that i'm putting off the dilemma of the mikes and that ben is still unknown to the party and they STILL HAVEN'T EXPLAINED EVERYTHING..... and then i realize that i have to resolve that and groan. don't worry, though, i'm doing it!!!! next chapter!!!!! and yeah i know that aunt m is conveniently gone from this chapter but you just need some unexplained things. she went to the store, feeding a billion teenagers has got to be a blow to the pantry (and plus she's loaded.... which i will explain, lol). 
> 
> also, stan's bit of suicidal idealization isn't just a one-off subject, i WILL focus on it, so this is just a general content warning from here on out! i'll put in the tags, as well. 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed, and as always, feedback keeps me writing!!!!


	14. school project

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, another long wait (which i'm sorry for!!!!!) finals week is this week, and i'm both numb from stress and going at about 500 mph from stress so... it's practically a miracle that i got this done. i most likely won't get anything else out until next week, but im very sorry for the inevitable wait!!!!! all your comments and kudos make me smile every time i get a notification :,,,,)
> 
> also, part one of two ~explanation~ chapters, these aren't very exciting, but it's necessary for everyone to know what tf is going on, lol. plus, after these, MORE PLOT!!!!! heaven knows we need that now.... 
> 
> i hope you enjoy this (slightly longer) chapter!

**_The Marsh Cabin Living Room._ **

 

“Everything.”

 

Bill sighed at Wheeler’s certainty, the way his eyes blazed in defiance. The anxiety of talking about the events during the summer had suddenly grown, taking a large and unavoidable residence in the lower part of his stomach. Richie looked like that sometimes, mostly when Eddie’s mother was being especially shitty or Bowers would go after a small kid or once when Mr. Stone had sneered at Mike in class. He knew that look. 

 

“First, though,” Dustin intercepted, and Eddie barely held in a highly annoyed sigh. “Who are you, and you?” 

 

He pointed to Mike on Bill’s left, and Ben behind him; belatedly Bill realized that the other group had introduced themselves, but they had to rely on Wheeler’s dream of It to get an idea of who everyone was. Fucking complications. The anxiety grew worse, beginning to bubble.

 

“I’m Mike Hanlon.” Mike said as Bill internally agonized, and Dustin laughed. 

 

“Oh good! First we have two people with the same face and now two people with the same name. This is too confusing,” he declared, putting his head in his hands. Will put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

 

“I can fix this easily!” Richie chirped, and before Eddie or Stan could stop him, he quickly continued. “Mike Who Stole My Face and Better Mike.”

 

“Beep Beep, Richie!” Eddie snapped. 

 

“I think we can just go by our last names,” Mike continued as if Richie had never spoken, and Wheeler seemed to half-heartedly agree, shrugging one shoulder. 

 

“I’m Ben, by the way,” Ben said after a murmur of agreement, shyly waving from beside Eddie. Will waved back, slight smile on his face. Bill felt like Will was like him. Like he knew things he didn’t deserve to. The anxiety and panic surged again, forcing Bill’s mouth to open. 

 

“My li-lit-t-tle b-br-broth-ther, Ge-Ge-Geor-Georg-Georg--” Bill tried, but his throat seemed to simultaneously constrict and expand, fighting against itself to let the words spill from his lips and prevent the name from coming out. The murmur was silenced as he tried to speak, everyone’s eyes on him making the anxiety rise and stutter worse. He closed his mouth after the fifth attempt, looking down at his clenched fists as Mike put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He  _ needed _ to say this. 

 

“Georgie,” he said finally. He felt as if he were choking slightly, but pushed it aside to keep on going. “Was out playing in the rain with a p-pa-pa-per boat I m-m-m-ma-made for him.” 

 

Bill knew that the Losers knew, generally, what had happened that day in the rain. Georgie had gone out playing. He hadn’t come back. Bill swallowed and resumed. 

 

“The woman th-tha-that had seen him la-last said that he was cr-crou-crouched in fro-front of the se-sew-sew-sew-sew--” Deep breath, “Sewer gate. He seemed to be talk-talking to someone. Sh-she stepped in for a sp-spli-split second, then when she came b-b-b-back out, he was gone. The pol-police looked for a fe-few-few weeks, and then they sto-stopped.” 

 

The room was completely silent, save for the soft breathing and occasional shifting of someone on a couch or armchair. Bill looked up from his hands for a spilt second to see Wheeler watching Will with an unreadable expression, a stormy mix of emotions so prominent on his face that Bill couldn’t pick just one. He turned after a moment, though, looking back at Bill, and Bill quickly looked down again, avoiding his eyes. 

 

“Then, the ne-ne-next summer, mo-more-more kids had g-guh-guh-gone missing. Ar-around that ti-ti-ti-time, we st-star-start-t-ted seeing…” Bill trailed off, his throat closing again to protest the passing of the words. Thankfully, by then, Mike took over, putting a hand on Bill’s shoulder. It was an unspoken assurance -  _ you don’t always have to be the leader _ .

 

“It was all different for us. But it was always the same thing - our biggest fears. A leper for Eddie. Georgie for Bill,” Mike continued, looking quickly at Bill to make sure it was alright for him to say this. Bill nodded minutely. “The only consistent was that there was this… clown, always there, along with our fears. After a little bit of time, Bill figured out that all the sewer systems in our town - Derry, by the way -”

 

“Derry?” Wheeler interrupted quickly, Max quickly exchanging a pale look with him. Bill looked closely at each of them, beginning to frown. 

 

“Yes, Derry. Why?” Ben answered, looking just as confused as Bill felt. Wheeler and Max turned even paler and exchanged another look. 

 

“Isn’t that the town that, err, kids die in every… 27 years or so?” Max asked, the number spilling from her lips too specific and quick for it to be a guess. Bill could feel Mike tense up beside him.

 

“How do you kn-kno-know that?” Bill asked slowly, trying for casual, but silently cursing his stutter when it still came through. 

 

“School project. We had to study a small town,” Wheeler answered. 

 

“What a coincidence!” Richie said dramatically, throwing both hands up in the air. 

 

“Seems the universe really wanted us to know about each other,” Lucas mumbled, and Jane furrowed her eyebrows together. 

 

“The Mind Flayer,” she responded, not as a question, but a definitive statement. The unfamiliar words made Will pale considerably, almost instinctively growing closer to Dustin, who protectively put an arm around his shoulder. 

 

“I don’t think so, El -- Jane, ” Wheeler said almost immediately, forcefully, stumbling over the name. “I don’t think it has the capability to do that.”

 

There was silence then among the other group, each looking at each other nervously. Bill’s head swum - Mind Flayer? Capability to do what? Why did he almost call Jane El? 

 

“It might,” Will whispered. 

 

“We don’t know that!” Wheeler insisted, his voice getting more panicked as he looked wildly from Will, to Jane, and then back again. Will looked almost ill, his skin a pale color that seemed almost impossible and green eyes wide, while Jane almost seemed unbothered if not for the stormy expression of contemplation on her face. 

 

“The sewers all connected to this one house on Neibolt Street,” Mike continued softly after a moment of silence. Wheeler looked back at him, shakily swallowing and easing hesitantly back into the couch. 

 

“Right - right. The sewers,” Wheeler repeated. 

 

“And then Bill had the brilliant idea to drag us in there with him,” Eddie interrupted then, glaring at Bill from his position beside Ben. Bill knew that there was no real anger behind the glare or statement, but he still couldn’t help feeling sheepish, nervously rubbing the back of his head. 

 

“We-well, I re-re-real-really wanted t-tuh-to find Ge-ge-geor-georgie, you know,” he said softly, looking down at his hands again. His eyes focused on the light pink scar on his left hand. An unforgettable reminder. 

 

“I broke my arm and was cornered by that fucking clown, Bill!” Eddie yelled, this time with a bit more heat behind his words. Bill knew Eddie was still slightly mad at him because of that fact: he winced, looking apologetically to the smaller boy.

 

“If it weren’t for Beverly spearing that fucker in the eye, Eddie would’ve been clown chow,” Richie contributed, and Beverly didn’t shy from the unbelieving looks from the Hawkins group. Bill sunk into himself further. 

 

“And then you punched Bill, Richie,” Stan muttered. 

 

“And didn’t talk to each other for quite some time,” Ben added, and while Richie defensively opened his mouth, Bill lifted his head. 

 

“After a f-fe-fe-few weeks, we g-go-got back toge-togeth-together because it… It got Bev,” Bill swallowed, glancing at Beverly while he spoke. Her expression was passive, letting nothing show. He remembered, fuzzily, that she was one of the only ones who wasn’t completely afraid of It. 

 

“Its lair was in the sewers, in the….  _ fucking _ house we went into before,” Eddie sighed, putting his chin in his hand glumly. “Mike had us go down one by one with this rope we had, in this gigantic well, and we… got to Its lair.”

 

“Bev was floating when we got there, but we pulled her down, and after… after a bit she was alright,” Ben continued, face getting slightly red as he thought of the kiss. Bill smiled slightly. It was sort of endearing, how enamoured Ben was for Beverly. 

 

“And… It ma-made itself look like Ge-geo-geor-georgie. It almost guh-guh-guh-got me, said he… he loved me.” Bill swallowed down a lump in his throat, and continued, “I shot it with this g-guh-gun thing Mike had br-brou-brou-brought, and it att-t-tacked me, back as a cl-clo-clown, wr-wra-wrapped one arm around m-muh-my neck and told everyone el-else t-tuh-to le-lea-lea-leave me to It, and they’d all li-li-live happy lives,” Bill continued, and in the back of his mind he dimly recognized the movement of his hand going to his right shoulder, the one the arm was so tightly clasped around. Wheeler tracked the movement with his eyes, as well as Jane and Lucas. Bill immediately took his hand down, instead wringing it together with his other one. 

 

“Then I was like, ‘Fuck you, Bill, you dragged me through all this bullshit, and now I have to kill this fucking clown’, and totally hit a homerun with that fucking clown’s head with this baseball bat that was down there,” Richie broke through, animatedly waving his hands about in the action of hitting a ball with a baseball bat. “There was a bunch of this shit down there, just laying around, like I think there were bikes down there, furniture, this fucking weird-ass caravan thing, maybe even a car? But yeah, there were all these things down there that we could use as weapons. Pennywise is one stupid motherfucker.”

 

Wheeler reacted to the name, turning a shade paler, as if he’d been denying the entire time that he’d been visited by the same nightmare clown, and the name had clinched it. 

 

“We all took turns beating Its ass, almost like a Round Robin,” Stan spoke up with a snort and a slight smile, Will by his side looking at him with humor and not a small bit of awe. 

 

“After we beat It down, It… disappeared,” Mike finished off, rubbing his own arm. “I didn’t know if we had killed It, and we made a sort of… blood pact, to come back and kill It if It ever came back.” 

 

The seven Losers all immediately took notice of their left hands, Richie, Beverly and Mike openly displaying the pink and almost-healed scars, Stan nervously rubbing his right thumb along the mark, Eddie and Ben looking down at their left hands without any more notice than that. Bill stared at his for a split second, going to trace the straight and neatly-placed scar with one finger. A forever promise. 

 

“Pact..?” Jane asked after a moment, confusion clouding her features. 

 

“A forever promise, one that holds a sort of… punishment if you don’t follow through. An agreement to do something,” Wheeler immediately filled in, putting a hand on hers. Jane nodded, still looking confused, but seeming to get it a bit easier now. Bill took it a deep breath. It was done. He didn’t have to tell it all again. 

 

“And… this thing tried to kill you all? Multiple times?” Dustin questioned, his eyebrows pulling together to form an expression of incredulity and dread. Mike responded with a quick nod. Dustin groaned.

 

“Ohmygod. Why does everything want to kill us? Why don’t we have something that, I don’t know, wants to take all the waffles or something? Why does it have to be death?”

 

“Take the waffles?” Jane asked, a tone of panic in her voice. Wheeler put his hand on her hand around her shoulders, comfortingly pulling her to him, making her look at him with even more panic. 

 

“No, no, no waffles being stolen. And I don’t know, Dustin. Seems like the universe acts in extremes,” he responded, a note of warning in his voice before he sighed. “Suppose we have to tell you about our story now, huh? God, if Hopper or Joyce knows we told you…” 

 

“Yup,” Richie popped the ‘p’, leaning back against the couch with a sort of smile on his face. Bill rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried to incorporate a few mileven moments in here bc i know you guys are suffering.... this fic is mostly gen, though, so those moments will be few and far between. (plus i'm not very well-versed w/ romance or relationships in general... and everything seems pretty forced, lol)
> 
> also, the losers club is relieved of their duty of Explaining and now it's up to the party (which will take a while,,,,,.. i had to cut quite a few details from the movie/book here to fit in a very abridged version, i'll have to do that with st too ;_____;) just leaves more moments for more heart-to-heart moments..... :)))))
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed, and as always, feedback makes me write faster + so much happier!!!!!! 
> 
> ohohoh!!! before i forget!!! i'm working on a sort of series of snapshot drawings of little scenes from this fic on my tumblr (@stanntheman) so!! if you wanna see those, it might take a while to get them out, but you should follow to make sure you get them when they come out ;;))


	15. connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit guys, i am SO sorry for not bringing this out sooner. i mean, i know it was christmas and all that, blah blah blah, but i promised a chapter and didn't deliver, and my guilt was eating at me. so, in response, this chapter is longer!!!! (almost longer than the meetup chapter, which is... wow, i didn't know i had it in me.) i cranked this out almost as soon as i opened all my presents, i was so excited to get it down. 
> 
> also, i got sooooo tired of writing out the plot of stranger things during this. it's necessary, as now we can get the actual plot moving (hell yeah!) but i'm warning you, it's pretty tedious. half the reason why this took so long was because i was procrastinating writing the plot out, ngl. 
> 
> also, eddie's POV!!! i realized that i sort of had eddie be a Complete Asshole this entire time so i wanted to fix that, because i know that i hate it when other writers write eddie like that, and i didn't want to be a hypocrite. 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy!!

Eddie knew that ever since he had gotten into Hawkins, he had been  _ such _ an asshole. 

 

He couldn’t explain it. The town seemed to have such a negative affect on him, not unlike Derry, in that it put him in a bad mood as soon as he had stepped foot into what he had come to call the Bad Vibes Forest. Seeing Bev again had lifted the fog for a bit, but upon the arrival of the other group and the announcement that the hell clown had not, in fact, died, the fog dropped back over him like a thousand pound weight. He had screamed at himself from inside his head when he had yelled at Bill and Richie, and he could feel Mike’s curious gaze on him whenever he would speak, almost as if he were watching for a reason why Eddie was acting this way. 

 

It felt out of his control, somehow, and his words were fueled by something other than the fire that usually burned deep in his gut. He shut his mouth firmly, clenching in his jaw to keep in any words that would inevitably bubble up during the other group’s explanation. He looked to where Mike was sat beside Bill, looking over each of the Losers with worried eyes. Eddie tried for a smile when Mike looked at him, and Mike reciprocated, but it felt more like a grimace. 

 

“It was a year or so ago - a year and a half,” Wheeler began after a moment of soft conversation between him and the girl beside him, Jane, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously. “We were playing Dungeons and Dragons, and I had just made a new campaign so we were pretty excited. Our monster that we had to defeat that week was… was the Demogorgon.” 

 

Will visibly shivered at the name, and Dustin beside him made to wrap an arm around his shoulders, Will looking up at him with wide eyes before looking down at his shoes. Wheeler swallowed before continuing, not missing the interaction. 

 

“We left after a few hours, but… Will didn’t get home. He didn’t come to school the next day, and his mom and brother didn’t know where he was, and we looked for him everywhere, but when we were in the woods we found Ele-Jane instead. She…” Wheeler swallowed again, turning to look at Jane, searching her face. She kept her expression blank, open; Eddie couldn’t read her well, which made him wary and slightly terrified. He was always scared of unreadable people; he couldn’t easily tell if he could trust them. After a solid three seconds, Wheeler turned back and continued. 

 

“She didn’t know a lot of words. Her hair was gone, shaved, and the only semblance of a name she could think of was the number on her wrist. Eleven.” At the sound of the number, Jane tugged up her sleeve, exposing a tattoo of 011 in small black lettering. Eddie leaned in, narrowing his eyes at inspect it closely. The initial rush of amazement and concern faded as he looked at it closer (did they  _ know _ how dangerous getting a tattoo was?!), replaced quickly by intrigue. What person had a tattoo of a number, had no vocabulary to speak of, and no hair? Eddie quickly thought of the government facility that kept being mentioned…. Maybe….

 

Stan and Mike seemed to come to the same conclusions, Mike’s eyes getting wide and Stan whipping his head up, going to look from Jane, to Wheeler, then back again, eyes narrowing. Jane held Stan’s gaze, the two having a staring contest before Stan turned away and seemed to curse at himself. Eddie recalled Mike’s words from when they had first heard about Hawkins; “ _ There have been a ton of cases of people, especially mothers, accusing the workers there of abducting their children and subjecting them to tests. _ ” Eddie shuddered at the thought.

 

“We found out soon enough that she… she had a sort of telekinesis. She can move things with her mind. She can also find people, with her mind,” Wheeler said quickly, an edge of excitement and desperation in his tone, as if he were begging the others to believe him. Eddie quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. 

 

“Wait just a second,” Richie interjected. Wheeler scowled, as he usually did whenever Richie started to talk. Eddie would laugh, if he weren’t slightly annoyed himself. The only one allowed to be mad at Richie was  _ him _ , and sometimes Stan. “Telekinesis? What? Prove it.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes at the stubborn tone in Richie’s childish demand, but he couldn’t really word it better, himself. Wheeler opened his mouth to sneer something that Eddie was sure was an amazing comeback, but before he could execute it, Jane focused on a spot behind Eddie with the same unnervingly intense look she had when Richie had first put his hands on Wheeler. Ben’s mouth fell open and Richie let out an astonished “Holy  _ shit!” _ just as a shadow fell over Eddie’s head.

 

Turning around, Eddie let out a yelp as he saw the TV set, previously carefully sitting in front of the large windows between the two biggest couches, floating a few feet above the ground. It settled back into its place with a loud  _ thump _ after a few seconds, and Eddie turned back just in time to see Jane wiping a trail of blood from her nose, fixing Richie with a small smirk. Telekinesis. Okay. 

 

“Oh m-m-my guh-guh-god.” Bill was staring at Jane with round eyes, his astonished voice prompting Jane to give him a small, satisfied smile in return. Stan and Mike had almost identical looks of terror and amazement, while Bev simply raised both eyebrows and moved a hand to cover her mouth. 

 

“Holy shit,” Richie repeated, and then leaned forward to talk to Jane in an openly excited voice. “Now - now, lift up Eddie, I want to see his face -”

 

“She’s not a dog!” Wheeler snapped, just as Eddie felt his face heat up and he felt everyone look at him in curiosity. 

 

“Just get on with the rest of it, Mike,” Lucas sighed after a tense moment of Wheeler and Richie glaring at each other. Wheeler blinked once before tearing his gaze away from Richie, missing as Richie stuck his tongue out at him. Eddie choked down the giggle that rose in his throat, and he could see Beverly snickering behind her hand. 

 

“We found out about the Upside Down from her, too. It’s… an alternate universe, a parallel universe, where everything is the same except it’s… colder. There’s no sun. And there are creatures there, dangerous ones. Will was trapped there, after the Demogorgon attacked him. We needed to find a portal, to get into the Upside Down and rescue Will.” 

 

“Hold up,” Richie interrupted again, and this time Wheeler didn’t hold back on the utter death glare he sent Richie. If looks could kill, Richie would be eviscerated. “Isn’t the Demogorgon from Dungeons and Dragons?” 

 

“Yes,” Wheeler grit out, clearly not looking to hash out the tiny details of his story. 

 

“The canon from Dungeons and Dragons is the closest parallel we could find,” Dustin interrupted, seeing that his friend was ready to fight Richie. “It explained everything that was happening.”

 

“They found a body in the lake that was presumed to be Will’s,” Wheeler barged on before Richie could open his mouth again, and Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye; Will had barely moved during the spectacle of Jane’s levitation, and had hardly moved through the rest of the story, but now he had moved to cover his face with his hands, as if to block out the words. Stan and Dustin beside him turned to him, Dustin replacing the arm around his shoulders and Stan softly putting a hand on his leg before withdrawing it. 

 

“We all stopped looking after that, but then we used one of our radios, to try and find Will. We thought he was dead, but Eleven - Jane had his voice go through the radio. He was singing a Clash song, trying to keep himself calm, I don’t know. But he was alive. We went out to find the portal, and the portal would have a powerful magnetic field, so we used our compasses. But we found out that El was making us go away from the portal, to protect us from the bad men from the Hawkins lab.” Wheeler took a deep breath. Eddie saw Richie open his mouth yet again, but Beverly quickly made to shoot Richie a silent but clear “beep, beep”. Richie closed his mouth. “Lucas was pretty angry, and he and I fought, and then El got involved, and… it was a mess. We all got separated and didn’t talk to each other.”

 

“Sounds familiar,” Ben muttered quietly, and Eddie caught the look Richie sent Bill. 

 

“But then we got back together, and we found El again when she saved me. We had to run, though, because the Hawkins lab men found us, and we would’ve been caught if El hadn’t flipped one of their vans and let us escape. Hopper found us, along with Will’s mom, my sister and Will’s brother, and we all went to the middle school to get El in a sensory deprivation tank. It was so that she could enter the Mind Space, to find Will without having to go into the Upside Down. After that…” Wheeler stopped then, turning slightly to obscure his face. Eddie squinted, surprised to see a blush blooming across his cheeks. Richie seemed delighted, but kept from commenting, held at bay by Bev’s threatening looks. “It was an even bigger mess. Hopper and Joyce - Will’s mom - left to find Will, and Nancy and Jonathan - my sister and his brother - went to go kill the monster. But the government men had found us, and El killed most of them, but the Demogorgon came and killed the rest and…. El disappeared to save us from it.” 

 

“Pennywise the bitch clown has no match with you,” Richie said in awe to Jane, who looked uncomfortable in turn. Stan rolled his eyes. 

 

“We found Will, and he was okay, and a year passed without too much happening. But we still had no idea where El was. I tried calling her on my radio, every day, just to see if she’d respond.” There was the blush again. Eddie smiled slightly. It was cute, how clearly flustered Wheeler was around Jane. “And Will would have these…. episodes every so often, where’d he be back in the Upside Down. The doctor he was going to said they were just flashbacks from his PTSD. We went back to school, and Max moved here from California. I… didn’t like her originally.” 

 

“Didn’t like me? Pretty sure you hated me,” Max piped up, no venom in her tone, but Wheeler still looked guilty. “Dustin and Lucas here were so determined to get me to be their friend that they resorted to stalking.”

 

“Fabulous,” Stan said, deadpan. Dustin faltered a bit in his smile, only continuing to grin when Stan sent him a small smile in return, reassuring of his sarcasm. 

 

“And then it was Halloween, and it was going pretty good for a while… until Will had another episode.” Realizing how this sounded, Wheeler rushed to explain. “Not that he ruined the night! The assholes that sent him into the episode did. But anyway, Dustin found this… lizard the morning after. He named him D’Artanagan, or Dart. He insisted it was a pollywog.”

 

“I’m g-guh-guh-guessing it wasn’t?” Bill asked. Dustin jumped in, determined to defend his honor. 

 

“He and I had a  _ connection _ !” He practically shouted. Wheeler groaned, and Lucas shook his head, a slight grin on his face as he tiredly rubbed a hand over his face. 

 

The laughter stopped when Will abruptly got up from between Dustin and Stan, hurrying into the kitchen while hiding his face in his hands again. The smile immediately slid off Lucas’s face and Wheeler quickly got up, panic clear on his face. 

 

A compulsion, similar to when he was snapped at Bill and Richie before, filled Eddie’s gut, and before he knew what was happening, he was on his feet and quickly following Will’s steps. He grew more confident as he walked - unlike feeling helpless and unnervingly furious before, he felt nothing outside of the confusion of his actions. Whatever was influencing him wasn’t taking control of his actions this time. He put one foot onto the tile and called out behind him. 

 

“It’s okay, you guys can continue.” Bill’s confused expression would have made Eddie smile if he hadn’t know it wasn’t the time to. Something was up with Will, beyond the obvious effect of him spending a while in what sounded like literal hell, and Eddie felt something, outside of the influence that was making him angry and step into the kitchen, wanting to help Will.

 

Will was sat at the small bar that Richie and Bill had perched at during breakfast, idly spinning slowly from side to side, eyes distant as he looked down at the counter. Eddie tried to be quiet as he walked to sit next to the small boy, but he couldn’t hold back the huff as he lifted himself onto the stool. Will turned slightly to watch as Eddie unsteadily adjusted until he felt secure enough on the seat, putting both hands on the counter to steady himself. 

 

“I just didn’t want to listen to it anymore,” Will said softly after a moment of silence, turning back to stare at the counter as he nervously wrung his hands together. Eddie watched in careful silence, knowing it was better to wait than to push. After another long pause, Will continued. “I’ve already gone through it all once, and I can usually listen to them talk about it, but… It seemed different somehow today. I don’t know. Today was pretty different in a lot of ways.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Eddie took the resulting silence after Will’s statement to talk, and the boy turned to look at him again, confusion clear on his face. “I swear I’m usually not this big of an asshole. Well, maybe to Richie, but not anyone else.”

 

“It’s okay,” Will laughed, smiling shyly. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat and he cheered in victory inside his head. 

 

“Plus, I wouldn’t want to talk about being trapped in that place either. Sounds much worse than Pennywise, I’ll tell you that,” Eddie continued, ignoring the twist in his stomach when he brought up the clown. Will seemed to sense his discomfort, and the smile slipped a bit, not quite leaving his face, but quite subdued. 

 

“It wasn’t just being stuck in the Upside Down,” Will confessed, not turning to look at the counter again, but still looking down at his tightly clasped hands to avoid seeing Eddie’s expression. “With all those episodes you heard about… I got possessed, by another one of the creatures in the Upside Down. Not a Demogorgon, something worse. They called it a Mind Flayer.” 

 

Hearing about the horrors Will had gone through was entirely different one on one than with the rest of Will’s group and the Losers; Eddie felt his stomach drop, especially as he could easily see the discomfort and fear pass over Will’s expression before he looked back up to Eddie, almost insecurely. Eddie couldn’t hide the open shock on his face. 

 

“He… used me as a spy, to see what the Party - what everyone else was doing, to make sure to get them right where he wanted.” Will’s cheeks colored slightly at the nickname for his friends, but Eddie smiled a bit. It reminded him of how the Losers called themselves the very insult that used to be thrown at them. “I couldn’t control him. He was so angry, so…  _ violent _ , he kept thinking about how he wanted to kill them all, thinking about sending his Demo-dogs to rip them apart. I still managed to get through to my friends, help them without him knowing, but…”

 

Eddie’s heart jumped as he noticed tears gathering in Will’s eyes, quickly pushing away his question of ‘ _ What’s a Demo-dog?’ _ . He quickly reached out to grab Will’s arm, something to reassure that he was okay. Will squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears trailing down his cheeks as he took a shuddering breath and breathed a name out. 

 

“Bob?” Eddie asked, more confused than before, squinting worriedly at Will. Will nodded weakly, reopening his eyes and quickly rubbing his sleeve over his nose. Eddie tamped down the disgust rising in his stomach, scooting closer to Will in order to listen to his quiet words. 

 

“He was my mom’s boyfriend,” Will said softly, sniffling slightly. “He was nice. He helped me overcome my fear of the Mind Flayer, and even if standing up to it led to me being possessed and him…” Will trailed off, but quickly shook himself and continued, “I don’t blame him at all.”

 

“What happened to him?” As soon as the words left Eddie’s mouth, he wanted to hit himself for being so dumb. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve - “

 

“It’s okay,” Will assured quietly, smiling reassuringly at Eddie before taking another deep breath, as if to steel himself. “The people of the lab were… testing me, when I was possessed, and the Mind Flayer had… had…. led them into a trap. The soldiers that they sent into the Upside Down, he killed them all.” 

 

Eddie pulled Will into an awkward hug after the small boy had broken off at the last sentence, quiet sobs wracking his shoulders. Distantly, Eddie could hear Wheeler and Richie shouting at each other - he held Will tighter, rolling his eyes minutely to keep himself from openly snarking about the two’s obvious rivalry. 

 

“It’s not your fault. The… Mind Flayer, did this to them. It had nothing to do with you,” Eddie whispered quietly, unsure if his words were making any sort of impact, but still trying. Will nodded against his shoulder, pulling away after a few seconds to wipe at his face again, sniffing messily. 

 

“I know,” he said shakily, wiping at his eyes again, looking down at his trembling hands after clearing his throat. “I still feel guilty, you know?”

 

“I know,” Eddie replied softly. Will didn’t continue with explaining what happened to Bob after that, and Eddie didn’t ask again; it’s obvious, what with how Will’s bottom lip trembled slightly and his wide green eyes sparkled with tears and guilt. 

 

They stayed there for a long while, sitting in comfortable silence, Eddie silently rubbing his hand along Will’s left arm while Will focused on his hands, almost as if he were willing them to stop shaking. 

 

The sound of Wheeler and Richie screaming at each other erupt in the background again, this time with accompanying shouts of what sounds like Beverly, Stan, Lucas and Dustin. Will snorted and Eddie let out an exasperated sigh. 

 

“They can’t stop, can they?” Eddie asked crankily as they both slid down from the barstools, Will wiping his nose one last time on his left sleeve and Eddie fidgeting with the top button of his blue flannel. 

 

“I think Mike feels threatened because Richie looks like him,” Will theorized as they stepped into the living room again. 

 

It was entirely chaos; Wheeler and Richie were only a few feet apart from each other, Wheeler’s face red as he yelled at Richie, Richie’s eyes comically blown wide from his glasses as he reciprocated. Beverly and Stan had taken up their battle stations against Dustin and Lucas, their softer words lost in the cacophony of Wheeler and Richie. The remaining group members, Mike, Bill, Ben, Max, and Jane, seemed as if they had tried to calm the six bickering ones down; Jane had wrapped her arms around Wheeler’s shoulders, as if to deter him from rushing Richie and punching him, with Ben taking up a similar position by holding Richie’s right wrist firmly in his grasp. Bill was slumped over his seat, head in his hands, and Mike had his head resting on one hand like a parent patiently waiting for their screaming child to stop their tantrum. Max seemed to be in a similar position, tiredly rubbing at her eyes and trying to casually cover her right ear as to block out both Beverly yelling and Wheeler’s shouts. 

 

“Will!” Wheeler stopped his rant at Richie mid-shout as soon as he caught sight of the shorter boy, immediately turning to look at Will with a soft expression and concerned tone. Richie turned to Eddie in a similar fashion, minus the soft look. “Are you okay?”

 

“Eddie!” Richie said in a relieved voice. “Listen, prove to this dipshit that Jane could totally kick Pennywise’s ass.”

 

Eddie groaned as Will giggled beside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every crossover i've read doesn't have much will + eddie interaction, which is.... sad. give me my soft boys being friends!!! there's so much potential in these crossovers, potential i don't see being explored a lot (which, seeing as i'm saying this, if there is will + eddie stuff and i'm just complaining about nothing, tell me! i'd love to see this friendship more :O)
> 
> also, mike and richie DO NOT like each other and most likely won't for a long time. their personalities just clash, so much, and i feel like mike would rise up to richie's taunts each and every time and give him a piece of his mind. which, of course, results in everyone being tired as they go through their seventeenth argument that hour. 
> 
> also, beverly and stan were arguing with dustin and lucas about the credibility of using d&d as a basis for all their explanations for supernatural shit. a much more substantial argument than richie's insistent and increasingly creative ideas of how el could murder pennywise. 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed, and as always, feedback makes my day!!
> 
> (btw, i'm posting the first of the illustrations of this series soon on @stanntheman on tumblr, if any of you would want to see that!)

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! i tried to give each setting a certain feeling, i hope it comes out. :) i would really appreciate any feedback, this is my first time writing for stranger things so i'm new with characterization/setting :0
> 
> hit me up at bottlefullofarsenic on tumblr to talk, yell @ me, whatever!


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